


In Days Gone By

by shoegaze



Category: Tokyo Ghoul, トーキョーグール, 東京食種
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2018-07-29 06:59:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 34,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7674604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shoegaze/pseuds/shoegaze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>NO LONGER WRITING. KEEPING IT UP FOR POSTERITY'S SAKE.</p><p>In mid-summer of 2012, eighteen-year-old university student Kaneki Ken went missing. After a short-lived investigation that was ultimately pushed aside in favour of more pressing cases, there seemed to be no hope.</p><p>Four years after his disappearance, a familiar face showed up in the shop of an old friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm really so very happy to finally have the confidence to post this, as I've been working on this idea for over a year at this point. Most of that time was spent obsessively rewriting the first chapter over and over, to be honest, but... I'm trying really hard to get past this trouble! So now, I present my baby. This story I've tried to build is almost as important to me as the actual Tokyo Ghoul series itself, haha.
> 
> Just gonna let you know- I don't have the best writing skills, tend to be quite repetitive, and I don't have a beta reader, but I hope that does not get in the way of reading!
> 
> Because the triggers/tags can vary wildly throughout the story, I've decided I will put content warnings before each chapter. Luckily, this one doesn't have any sensitive content, as far as I am aware!
> 
> Anyway, thank you very much for reading! Please, enjoy!

It was the first snowfall of the new year.

An old street light flickered. Sirens became a whisper in the distance. The cool breeze grew stronger as seconds passed. It was chilly, but he didn't mind, letting his feet dangle off the edge of the building as he watched the white flakes pile up on the empty street below.

The atmosphere refreshed him in a way, he supposed. It left a vague feeling of something long lost inside him- vigor? A new energy? No, it was more like a sense of familiarity, but... Perhaps it was just brought on by the calm of winter, by it's crisp air and light smell, by the snow drifting down to land on top of him. It was fleeting.

Minutes passed. The snow still fell. The sun began to rise over the horizon, giving a desperate attempt to shine through the grey clouds of the morning. Few bright rays came through in splotches like stains on dirty fabric, but, soon enough, they closed up, washed away, the stains bleached out too soon to set in. Despite its failures, the sun would not give up. He waited.

Eventually, when the crows called out their clumsy songs and people began to wake and prepare for the day, Haise heard the soft crunch of footsteps atop snow slowly approaching behind him. With a hint of hesitation in his movements, he stood. It was time to go.

"Eto and Tatara say they're in Nara. I'm not sure about the others."

The crunching stopped. Heat emanated from the figure beside him. For a moment, the two watched as the sky finally filled with light that shone down like heavy rain. It was a waste of time, both of them knew, and it was only childish to hope it would last, but Haise wanted to savour the feeling. He wanted to keep it with him as long as possible. He wanted to pretend like it was something he still cared for.

"Mm," He gave a small nod and turned to look at the blue-haired boy, whose black cloak was covered in the same snowflakes that spread over the city, "I don't think we should follow."

He watched the other remove his mask and hide it in the front pocket of his bag, "No, we shouldn't."

Giving a small sigh, Haise forced his eyes from the view and removed his own mask, making his way back toward the stairwell he had climbed for his self-indulgent break. Looking down, Haise searched for a trace that showed he was ever there- that he had ever stopped atop the empty building for what was most likely his last peaceful moment in the place he made his home, but it was impossible. He could no longer make out the footprints he had originally left behind him.

The two slipped off their bags, filled with cash gained in unconventional ways and empty spray cans that no longer held paint, and dropped them down the hole between each turn in the stairs, climbed over the railing, and jumped. A large pile of snow broke their fall. The sudden sensation of freezing cold made Haise shiver.

After cleaning themselves up and tucking away their disguises in the dark of the parking garage, they hurried toward whatever direction the roads took them. They had to leave. Just standing idle, waiting for something to happen, was not an option.

There was no time to sit around and gaze at the scenery.

Nobody payed any attention to them, only two nobodies in a crowd, on their way to class or to work or to wherever passerby assumed. Some would whisper, perhaps pointing out their exhausted eyes or unwrapped wounds, but they'd be the select few to pay attention to anything outside their own insignificant matters. It would be normal. They would be normal.

If only that were truly the case.

If only they could have truly been normal, rather than just an imitation. Stepping on and off trains. Buying mid-morning breakfasts from a conbini. Ignoring strangers. Greeting store clerks. Waving and murmuring polite Hello's and Goodbye's and Have a nice day's. Just like any other person.

But normal was impossible. He didn't care to return to the past, as it was only wishful thinking for a less inconvenient situation. None of it mattered to him.

He could handle being an imitation.

Hours passed. The snow still fell.

It wasn't long before they entered Kofu. Noon was slowly fading. The train was relatively empty, quite surprisingly. Buildings and people flittered by, just past the line of windows ahead of them. Ayato sat beside him. Out of the corner of his good eye, he caught the other's hand bring a phone up to his ear. He knew the few other people in the compartment could see it, too.

"Don't," Haise was hushed enough for the rolling metal of the train to drown him out, only those closest able to catch his words, "You know it's not a good idea."

Of course, the request would be ignored. Perhaps it would have been much easier to change the other's mind if he hadn't felt compelled to stay silent for the mere state of being inconspicuous.

What a bother.

"If anybody," A pause. Hesitation. Was it a reasonable suggestion? He thought so, but anticipating the outcome did not come easy to him, "Call your sister. We'll stay at her place."

The look boring into him with dark eyes brought him back to muddled recollections of the past that were shared on the nights when the boy had just a bit too much to drink.

"What makes you think I'd want to talk to someone like her?"

Haise skimmed over his vague and hardly-developed justifications, "She's of the public. Out of the way. Simply staying with her isn't enough to condemn us like with another group or a even a hotel- they could fuck us over."

He hoped it was convincing enough for Ayato. Haise wasn't exactly willing to stumble on their own through the city- he was frightened by the thought, but he wasn't exactly going to reveal that, either. After a nervous moment of gathering his words, he continued, "With her, assuming she won't turn us in, we can stay low. It's secure."

Even if he searched for positivity in the idea, he understood that such strong grudges- though reasons unknown- could not be broken so easily from just words alone. This stood even through years of growing maturity. Some things would simply never change.

Development did not wash away enmity. Maturation did not fix relationships. Compassion did not reform bonds.

Ayato gave a mocking snicker with no reply to accompany it. He took it as a rejection.

"Then put it away."

He didn't.

Haise turned his head with a sigh and briefly offered a look of apology to those who glared in annoyance. Preventing his actions would have caused a larger disturbance, so he settled for false sympathies as he allowed the boy's call.

He could hear ringing from the small device. No response. The boy dialed another number. Then another. The ringing never stopped.

After several moments, a curse was whispered. Haise could feel unease in the air and caught the alarm in his eyes.

"Shit…" The blue-haired boy mumbled as he went through the contacts on his phone. More than anything else, his voice showed his worry, "Nobody's picking up."

Haise wasn't surprised.

It wouldn't have turned out any other way. They were reckless. Lasted too long. It was bound to happen sooner or later, and by allowing their actions to go so far they pushed their luck.

It didn't sit well with him. A mixture of contradictory emotions filled him- a desire to protect, a need for self-preservation, and a dread of collapse. He understood that he couldn't, or, rather, shouldn't attempt to assist the others and salvage whatever was left, as it would only result in further dissent. However, comprehension did not remove any frustration he felt toward the reality of their situation.

Several moments of quiet contemplation passed before either spoke again, broken by Ayato's sigh, "Ah, shit… This is pissing me off. Knowing this is how it could end… Feels strange."

Haise could tell the other was holding back with his words as his agitation and near-fear was hardly clouded by his cool-headed facade. They'd never come so close to demise before, and, though far more experienced than Haise, the boy was still on a bumpy, rock-ridden and hole-filled path to stability in their group.

The aura pouring out of Ayato was not one that Haise couldn't empathize with.

And he was right- strange was the only way to describe the initial feeling that followed the confirmation that what he had, how he lived, who he was, would change from that point onward with the possibility that it was gone forever. It brought panic that Haise could hardly fight off. No matter how many times it happened, readjustment was always…

Strange.

But Haise wasn't sure he felt the same kind of emotions as the boy. Not the same kind of submission to their fate. He shook his head, grabbing his bag with a reply, "You should know it's not over yet."

The train slowed down. He glanced at Ayato, giving a small smile as compensation for the inconvenient direction they were headed. The blue-haired male only stared at his phone with an unidentifiable expression. An automated voice boomed through the overhead speakers.

-

There was far less snow in Tokyo. Whatever fell melted before it could hit the ground, leaving only small, darkened spots on the pavement like grease stains.

Haise was a bit glad to be off of public transportion and onto the crowded streets. The scent of fried street food floated through the air in waves. The chattering of everyone around him engulfed him in a sea of words that drowned out his own thoughts.

As troublesome as it may be, refreshing, he could say it was. Refreshing to be somewhere else, to be around new people, to be something different.

Here, nobody was plagued by thoughts of gangs roaming in dark alleyways and abandoned buildings. Nobody looked at them with badly hidden suspicion that they tried so hard to deter. Nobody whispered about the stories of Aogiri on morning news.

He liked it. The rush of nostalgia that hit him was nearly enough to make him want to stay, but as he thought on it more and more, there was no ignoring his evergrowing disquiet. The curtain of safety that such a busy city provided, hiding them from their hunters, did not account for the looming predators that used it to their advantage, just waiting for his most vulnerable moment. And with so many worries that refused to leave him, with so many increasing concerns for the group...

But that would be pushed away, replaced by a state of mind that Haise couldn't quite describe.

Meanwhile, Ayato clearly let his own dissatisfaction overpower the rest of his emotions.

"I can't fuckin' believe you're making me do this."

Neither could Haise, and, as much as his mind told him to go down the wrong path, he wouldn't let either of them sway away from what was best. From what could keep them alive. Feelings did not matter in a situation such as theirs.

That was why Ayato gave in so easily.

"Sorry, can't hear you," There was an initial struggle, but not very much to his distaste Haise was able to overcome his seemingly eternal stoic attitude and replace it with something a bit lighter, "I can't tell if everyone else is too loud or if I just don't give a shit."

An ugly scowl and a mumble followed, though a light sense of playful banter came from his voice, "You're gettin' off on this, aren't you?"

Haise didn't answer, instead only managing a faint laugh.

The people of the city began to disappear as the sky darkened and the temperature began to sink near the quieter neighborhoods in the city, but the lively population still managed to linger. The steaming nikuman he nibbled on fogged up his glasses and a halo formed around the few lamps that brightened the narrow street they walked along. He cracked a knuckle as they passed by familiar sights.

The clanking of metal inside his bag seemed to echo.

According to Ayato, they still had a bit of a ways to go before reaching his sister's place near Ikebukuro. It wasn't difficult to argue that it shouldn't have taken so long, to suggest that the boys were lost, as they had only the younger's possibly shoddy recollection of her address and their general knowledge of the city to rely on. It'd been too long for Haise to recall.

Well, it was more that Haise refused to recall, but he played it off as only fading memories of a visit from long ago.

How many years? Three? Four?

He wasn't exactly sure how he was supposed to feel. What had already been handed to him was far from the expected; he felt odd- weightless, like he was on a high. While he was unsure if it was the product of anxiety or a caricature of bliss, he supposed it was better than the fear that threatened to break free from his mind. It was the better of the two to front himself with.

It brought on slight trembles.

Haise tossed the nikuman wrapping and looked down to his feet. He didn't want to think about it. About any of it. But what else was there to do? As he let out a sigh he could feel the younger's eyes on him, but not a word was said.

The two continued walking along the emptying alleys, their footsteps now the only noise that he managed to hear. Occasionally, Ayato would stop to glance just a slight bit longer at an apartment building, or lean in to read a name plate. He assumed they were getting close.

Their walking came to a slow stop and Ayato approached the entrance pillars of a small complex. He glanced to Haise, who nodded, and sighed as the he made his way up a staircase.

"This's where we were when I left. Don't know where else she'll be if not here."

Haise couldn't help but feel that it held bad bearings for their expectations.

A knock resounded in the quiet dark. The apartment door opened, and a young boy was illuminated by the light inside. Looking up expectantly, the boy was only met with Ayato's disappointed eyes.

"Hey," He knelt down to face the child and gave a false smile, both as an attempt to keep the child in comfort and to hide his own dislike for his presence, "Is there anybody called Kirishima Touka here?"

Haise slapped his shoulder just slightly to express the tactless approach toward a child.

The boy shook his head.

A larger shadow was cast over his, and Haise could only assume the figure was the boy's mother. She whispered wordless murmurs to her son before turning to face the two men in her doorway, "Excuse me, is there anything I can do for you?"

"Ah, yeah," Ayato stood again, straightening his back as though he suddenly cared to make a good impression, and bowed, "Do you know anything about the previous tenant of this apartment?"

She gave a small frown, hands on her hips, and eventually shook her head, "No, not really."

Haise could assume she wouldn't have given the information out, anyway, and may have even made a snarky comment on their request without the standard polite guise required by their aquaintanceship. Already disinterested, Haise turned to lean against the third-floor railing. He couldn't see much aside from other buildings and powerlines.

When the the two finished their exchange, whatever light they had disappearing as the door closed, he heard a faint voice speaking to him and the smell of cigarette smoke, though didn't respond until a hand touched his shoulder.

"Fuck, this was useless," The words mimicked Haise's thoughts. It wasn't really his place to say anything, however, as he'd been the one to suggest it in the first place. Ayato cocked his head in the direction of the road they came up from, "There's a hotel a bit back where we can stay."

Haise turned on the hand he was leaning against to face the other, "Any idea what we're doing next?"

"No," He took a drag from his cigarette and blew smoke off the balcony, watching it fade into black, "We'll figure it out tomorrow. Right now I just want to sleep."

There was a small hum of agreement and a cold arm pressing against his as they both leaned over the railing. The boys took turns with the smoke, passing it off in silence until it was nothing more than a small bud. It took some of the edge off of their stress.

Even through their troubles, Haise was comforted by Ayato's presence. He closed his eyes a let out a breath that was somewhere a mix between a sigh and a yawn.

His cooled breath danced with the lingering smoke left behind by bad habits.

"Haise," Ayato's voice was considerably soft compared to before, and the elder raised his head, "Are you really okay with, y'know… being here?"

Silence. An awkward air stood between them, though Haise was sure he was the only one feeling such. He was the only one to feel nervous for simply being in a city. The only one to be afraid. To Haise's displeasure, the atmosphere was created entirely by his own self, and he chose to block out that truth.

"I'm fine, don't worry," The air blew against his overhanging arm as he diverted his gaze, chin resting atop his hand. It was easy to ignore Ayato's denial of the claim.

Haise pushed himself up from the railing and began walking toward the stairs. He looked back with a bit of an off smile, "Let's go check out that place you were talking about."

Ayato lingered a moment, but soon enough followed behind the other. He could hear the younger click his tongue and mumble words that Haise couldn't quite catch. His fingers twitched as their shoes ringing against the metal steps was the only thing to accompany them.

-

The next morning was a groggy awakening to dull headaches and muddled thoughts.

The room was cold, windows open and a lack of proper heating, and Haise wanted to bury himself into the futon to conserve his own warmth. However, that would only allow his beating heart to race, the loud thumping resonating through his ears, and he instead pulled himself from the covers to stand and revitalize his senses. The cool tatami felt pleasant under his feet.

He was alone, the other futon folded and stored and the other's bags missing from the corner where they'd been placed. A twinge of anxiety built up in the pit of his chest, but the mail jingle of his cellphone dispelled his worries. He clutched the device in his hand as he wandered toward room's small kitchen.

He poured himself a cup of cheap instant coffee.

Two hours passed as he waited for Ayato's return. He tossed out the empty alcohol cans littering the floor. Reorganized the counter's small collection of packaged seasonings. Contemplated whether or not to venture out into the city he was seemingly so afraid of.

The irony played against his wishes was almost humourous, in a way. It was almost like an act of defiance, the contradiction of his attempts to steer the two away from exactly their position- lost in a city with an unknown destination. Frustration pulled a sigh out from burning lungs attacked by unforgiving air.

A gentle touch to his arm snapped open eyes that were beginning to droop, and Haise looked up to the figure standing beside him. Satisfied with Haise's conscious reaction, Ayato walked back toward the doorway. The electronic ding of the handle locking was seen rather than heard. Plastic bags fell to the floor.

"Yo," The younger pulled off his jacket and tossed it beside his shoes, and the other just barely managed to catch the curt greeting.

Haise gave a small, weak smile, "Hey."

Silence returned between them. The smell of dark brew filled the room for the second time that morning. Haise's vision began to blur, eyelids again feeling heavy, though he managed to keep himself awake as he leaned against the wall. His gaze followed the moving clouds gliding over a blue sky just outside the window.

Ayato stood at the counter, taking occasional sips from his mug. Haise leaned his right side closer toward the kitchen as the sudden ringing of ceramic hitting stainless steel filled his ears. The sound faded into Ayato's words.

"I asked around a bit. Found someone who could find what we're lookin' for 'n didn't seem too sketchy."

The elder nodded and jutted his chin out toward the crumpled plastic, "What's in those?"

Ayato looked down to the bags beside his feet and picked them up. There was immediate recognition of cylindrical silhouettes and the faint rattling of plastic nozzles.

"Got us more paint. Don't plan to use it yet, but…" The metalic form of the cans blended into the countertop, the only real distinguishment between them being the coloured caps, "'S good to be ready."

Haise held no real qualms against it, and only watched as the boy began pulling things out of the other bags, "Here I've got bread and rice. Some of those beef bentos you like. Just food."

The elder pulled himself to his feet and made his way to stand beside Ayato. He reached out, his stomach grumbling to remind him of the need to eat, but such familiar sights brought on a pang of melancholy, and his hand stopped.

The present acted like a replacement for those times. The morning was so calm, their conversations short and casual, yet kind, and the day passing by so slow as though time itself were lethargic. A likeable nostalgia. It left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"You gonna stare at it all day?" Ayato's voice was harsh, but the playful nudge against Haise's shoulder betrayed his tone.

"Ah, no-" He was still trying to straighten out his blurred mind. The text on a sandwich wrapper burnt itself into his mind without cause, and after a moment he turned to look at Ayato with a shake of the head, "Thank you."

The boy only nodded with a frown as the crackling of plastic popping open helped to stray their attention to something less brittle.

They'd left the hotel by eleven, their unsatisfied selves set on making use of the oceanic sky's subtle morning waves, and the noticeably higher temperature of Tokyo was a welcome change. The nagging presence of feelings that remained since his arrival almost didn't detract from the experience.

The streets were a dark grey dampened by melting snow. Water trickled down the edges of the sidewalk. The speckling of concrete was only fed by rushed footsteps. Haise's hands shook as the two walked alongside the noon's substitute for office men and high-school students.

It was odd to see unfamiliar businesses and fashion trends and social traditions that were so subject to change in Tokyo within just a few years. The foreign obscurity of his environment manifested as undeserved and spoilt betrayal.

Even so, its life-long intimacy still stood strong.

He wasn't sure whether or not to feel relieved that he still knew his city.

Fragments of words reached his ears and only faint movements flickered in the view at his feet, and a hand was forced to pull his wrist into the doorway of a cafe so Haise's attention would be caught. The questioning, though understanding, expression that Ayato had yet again looked to him with left him uneasy.

The two entered the building- a quiet shop on the first floor with an atmosphere that invited them as though it were home. A vague familiarity that Haise couldn't put a name to grew throughout their short visit. A strange kindness from unknown faces.

A similar vibe radiated from the younger's cold eyes, but for one reason or another neither of them decided it best to speak of. Instead, they held casual conversation. Small talk that was neither exactly genuine nor false. Side glances and recurring fidgets suggested Ayato was waiting for someone- or something- but the anticipation was never fulfilled even as their stay came to an anticlimatic end.

Haise's mouth opened slightly to form a question, but soon closed back up in silence.

A door opened from the back of the cafe. Pale cambridge. A figure stood, tying an apron to their back, and caught passing attention from the corner of his eye before the two pushed through the glass door. A bell jingled to mark their exit. A small chalboard stood at Haise's feet.

_'ANTEIKU :re.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I really like to listen to music while writing but I always get carried away and start singing along dramatically, even when I'm in the middle of the zone. I gotta stop.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm in an honest disbelief at how long it took me to go through a massive block and eventually get back to my writing after months of dropping it entirely. I really don't know what else to say. I apologize.
> 
> I do hope you enjoy this chapter. My writing style has probably changed a lot since the first. Oh well. I've already finished the third one, so this next update should only be a wait of a week or so, instead of, what, ten months? Lol.
> 
> Side note, I've recently learned how to use a coffee press. This is what happens when your mother stops drinking coffee and your brother takes his Keurig to his new place. I like it. I feel sophisticated, or something.

The two boys were already at their third hotel in just thirteen days. A way to avoid vulnerable availability, they justified it as, though aiding paranoia never really mattered. Ayato was out in Tokyo more often than not, and Haise preferred to stay in their room, distracting his thoughts with lengthy novels and less-than-interesting television dramas and talk shows.

The first few weeks were uneventful. Dull. Average.

The story of a successful bust in Nagano prefecture played over the radio. Pictures of the long-sought gang headquarters were posted on newspaper columns and net forums days later. Twenty-seven arrests were counted by journalists, though the official numbers had not yet been released.

Police cast Aogiri off as an insignificant group akin to motorcycle gangs and highschool sukeban- a mere nuisance- but were glad to know that the post-delinquents were finally off the streets of Matsumoto, and left it at that. Perhaps it was due to modesty on the force's part, or to detract attention from crime to avoid seeming as though they endorsed it. Or perhaps it was a taunt. He wasn't sure, nor did he know whether to be apathetic or infuriated.

But that was the end of it.

Closure felt wrong, almost fake, and neither were sure if they should keep up the act of evasion or let their guards drop into a casual lifestyle. The Matsumoto police force would discover their escape sooner or later. Even if nobody was coming to search for them then, somebody eventually would. The thought lingered into his mind every several hours. Looming in the back of his head.

It was a lie not only to Ayato but to himself when he said they should've known better than to worry.

But there was nothing to be done about it except continue a run that may or may not have been in vain, and block out the dyspathy created by the images of those he lived alongside. Haise expressed his defeat through detached mumbles and self-destructive habits. Ayato expressed it through sour fits of anger.

Many hours upon hours were spent staring out small hotel windows before any progress was made.

The two were sat in the cafe again, their second visit to confirm Ayato's lead- Haise was now aware of what exactly the younger's previous anticipation was for. However, he was only able to stare down at his cup, the foam oh-so-slowly dispersing into the dark liquid, as Ayato waited for the clock's large hand to reach the twelve. The atmosphere overwhelmed him. Gave a clammy nausea that left him unable to drink his coffee.

Unnerving were the faces around him, and he couldn't manage to explain to himself why. Did he once know them, nameless people occasionally spoken to in passing moments? Or were they nothing more than strangers? He didn't know. His mind would give no reason behind its anxiety.

Haise could only fend it off as he gave small smiles of reassurance.

"Do you know which one she is?"

"What kind of question is that?" Ayato shook his head and relaxed back into his chair, "She's my sister, y'know. I'm sure I can recognize her face."

Haise hummed faintly in acknowledgement, "Ah, that's true… You're really going through with this, then?"

Haise wasn't sure if the boy could properly deal with his animosity.

"Yeah, I guess," The younger huffed, voice low and sharp, taking a bite from an omelette that made Haise's stomach curl, "It's shit, but you're right. There's not much else we can do."

"Did you pay him off?"

"You know I did."

He nodded.

It seemed uncharacteristic for Ayato to accept their supposed fate so easily, but Haise wasn't going to argue with it. He wasn't in the mood nor did he think it necessary. His own actions taken in reference to their situation could be done without Ayato's involvement, and vice versa. No reason to interfere with something that already aligned with his suggestions.

However, Haise was certain they could have opted for a different method if Ayato truly wanted.

Tapping feet vibrated through his legs. Haise's head rested down on the table, his arms a pillow and eyes staring blankly through the glass to his left, and the surrounding words faded. Numb tingling ran through his body as the vague feeling of unreality grew. As though they weren't really there. Only floating in a dream. Time edged by slowly.

Too slowly.

The slight wobbling of the table brought him back, and he glanced up to see Ayato stand from his seat. An exchanging of looks signalled him to rise to his own feet, and Haise tried to push away the sickly feeling as he followed behind the other. His unfocused eyes stared at blue hair. Legs weak and heavy yet simultaneously light as air, occasionally he would stumble over himself before managing to steady his balance once again.

A lighter shade filled his view- one similar to Ayato's but not quite right, as though it'd been changed to a tint and the hue itself shifted just a few yellows or blues. It was a pleasant colour, he thought. Soft. Comforting. And her face. Her face was so familiar. It sent shivers down his spine.

"Oi," The younger began and a bitter smirk spread across his lips. Haise yet again felt a twinge of something unknown in his chest, "Long time no see."

Her lips parted only slightly- as though to speak, but seemed to be at a loss for words. She looked past her brother, and Haise gave a weak and unsure shrug in response. Some of the tension in her expression faded.

"Aya-" Her voice stopped. She cleared her throat, "Ayato."

The atmosphere grew thick and uncomfortable. Haise held his hand against the wall to keep himself upright.

Few seconds passed. Touka glanced over the cafe, then straightened her posture and held her chin up high, "Is there anything that you need?"

The younger male gave something between a groan and an awkward laugh. Frustration. Touka's unorganized movements- a fidgeting running through her lips to her hands all the way down to her feet- showed how nervous the unexpected meeting made her.

"Let's talk outside," Ayato gestured toward the entrance.

Touka looked with a continuous uncertainty that hinted she may have had other plans in mind. Maybe a preoccupation with a friend, or maybe a sudden epiphany toward the situation. He didn't know. Even so, as Haise could see- could feel- her clear hesitation, she agreed. Whether or not it was the right decision, however, wasn't so readily available.

In the brief moment that Ayato turned back to move past him, walking toward the door, Haise took the chance to grab onto the edge of the other male's shirt. A clingy comfort. A balance. Touka took cautious steps beside them.

He felt as though all eyes were on him.

The sudden shift from yellow and white fluorescents to the dark of night was dramatic, the sky pitch black with light-up signs and glowing glass as their new stars. In complete silence, save for the occasional sniffle or the scuffing of shoes, the three moved through the crowds and to a lonely alleyway only three buildings down from the cafe. Ayato waited for a group of students to pass them before pulling himself away from Haise's grasp and approaching his sister.

Touka took a step back, matching his step forward.

"We need a place to stay."

It was soft, almost soothing, but underneath laid an obvious hostility. It was a demand. His fists clenched at his side.

Again, Touka opened her mouth nearly without any sound to follow, but managed to succeed with her second attempt.

"I haven't-" A pause and a sigh were followed by the downward turn of her lips. Ayato tilted his head with narrowed eyes, a curiosity toward the sudden change, almost expectantly.

She scoffed, "Y'know what? Fuck off."

Laughter sounded out behind them. A crunching on the asphalt was barely heard from under Touka's twisting foot. The light from a window above them shut off.

Haise's jaw clenched, but what he felt would not reach the extent of Ayato's frustration. A low mumble grew into a very audible curse as he took another step forward, more threatening than the one prior. Then silence. Anxiety grew. The elder couldn't decide if it was more dangerous to let Ayato proceed or to stop whatever it was he may have tried. He couldn't decide if he wanted to in the first place.

"What makes you think that you can say no?" Ayato was more spiteful than before now that he had been rejected- had been antagonized. Even just a slight push would have been able to push him too far. Haise's cheeks and his upper lip raised as he looked to the blue-haired male in the off-center of his wavering vision. Pressure built up between his eyebrows.

Ayato's footsteps continued. Touka's stance faltered- almost unnoticeably, if truly at all and not just imagined- though she stood her ground as well as she could backed up against a pipe-covered wall. Eyes locked to her brother’s without fear.

"I don't need to give you a reason."

Touka spat on the ground in front of him.

The raising of his arm under faded yellow light, then the fall of his fist, was followed by the high-pitched clanking of metal. A thud hit the cold ground. Haise flinched at the movement, but kept his eyes fixed on the two as the younger's boot scraped against broken glass and dirt and his sister cried out. Repeatedly, he shoved his foot down with a heavy weight.

His fingers twitched. Haise stared down at the fallen girl, but the remorse or empathy or whatever vague resemblance of an emotion he felt over the scene didn't truly seem to be concerned with her safety. It was more that something put him off. Gave him an odd tingling that sent a shiver down his spine. As if he wasn't uncomfortable enough. After watching the girl writhe on the ground, trying with several attempts to pick herself up only to be pushed back down, his hand jolted forward to pull on Ayato's shoulder.

"We should go," He whispered under his breath.

A slap attempted to push Haise's hand away, but he didn't recoil, and instead only tugged more forcefully. His nails dug into Ayato's skin through the fabric of his shirt. The turn of his body to face Haise didn't do much more than lift his palm only slightly, causing Ayato to cry out with a curse. His breathing was laboured. Haise shook his head and repeated himself.

What felt like minutes passed before either continued, and finally Ayato let the stress leave his muscles. The elder's hand falling from the other’s shoulder to his fingers, Haise grasped tightly and led the both of them down to the opposite end of the alleyway, into a backstreet only slightly-less populated than the one before. Ayato ignored the diminishing strength that Haise could hardly retain. Rather than using it to his advantage, he accepted it.

While a suffocating feeling leaked into Haise’s chest, he held his head high.

But he couldn't say there was any pride to be found within.

∼≁∼

"Excuse me, we are not permitted to release information regarding our employees. However, I would be glad to take your order now, if you're ready."

Haise waved his hand, "Ah, I understand. I'll have the nutmeg cappuccino, then."

He figured it was worth it to take the opportunity while he was in the cafe, though in all consideration it was unlikely he'd get what he truly requested, even with all his waiting. If the waitress told Touka that somebody was asking about her, she would never humor the idea. Not after what happened the week prior.

"Yes, one Natsukurimu Cup," The girl smiled, "Your drink will be out in a moment, sir."

He nodded. As she walked away, order-filled clipboard in hand, his stomach grumbled, but he didn't have much an appetite for anything that day. A simple coffee would do. Something seasonal.

Something that would act as the spice in his bland lifestyle of the recent times.

For runaway criminals that hardly managed to escape the consequences of their damages, not much truly ever happened to show it. All they could do was sit and wait, hiding silently in the never-ending crowds of Tokyo, in the forest of buildings and the weeds that grew among them. Watching the thousands of insects crawling by every day. Observing their organized movements that never seemed to change.

He felt like one of those insects, but something separated him from the others and isolated him indefinitely. It prevented him from ever returning to the average crowd again, prevented him from ever properly assimilating no matter how hard he tried, if he even wanted to. A centipede in a sea of evening cicada. He shook his head.

The waitress came back from behind the bar, several glasses atop her tray. He took a sip. A low huff was released from his beaten lungs.

The coffee was too sweet.

Haise returned the eight days later, lacking Ayato's presence beside him yet again, but he waited outside in the chilly February weather instead of going in. A cigarette hung between his lips as he watched customers come and go every several minutes. He cuffed his hands around the bud to keep the emanating heat near to his chilled skin.

He wasn't quite sure that he could stomach a coffee that day. He was already on edge. Caffeine would do him no good, and even more so every time his heart began to race at the sight of a figure standing in the very corner of his eye. He tried his best to think it away.

Fingers and teeth fidgeted. The smoke was blown away by cool wind. The glass door swinging open again, Haise watched as a shorter girl seemed to begrudgingly carry a folding sign out toward the sidewalk, her chalk hanging from her apron, and she gave a frustrated sigh every time her curled hair fell down to cover her face.

Her hair. It was the same pale teal. He pushed himself off the wall, tossing and killing the small flame of the cig with a swift twist of his foot.

"Kirishima-san," He began, "How are you?"

A curious, slightly-surprised expression turned to face him, but then frowned, "...Huh."

"Huh?"

"My brother's not here," Touka mumbled and kneeled down to the sign. She opened the zip bag of small, broken bits of white chalk and searched through for a piece she found satisfactory.

"Correct," He stepped closer and looked over her shoulder as her hands ran across the board, "It's a bit late to bring that out now, no?"

She scowled, "Woke up late. It hurts to get out of bed, y'know."

"I know."

The blue-haired girl shifted to give him a disgusted grimace that he almost felt hurt by, but, in the end, no strong emotions were felt toward either what he said or how she acted. Haise pursed his lips as he looked on. Her eyebrows furrowed. Touka dusted her hands off and craned to look inside the cafe for a moment before returning her attention back to the male, and then crossed her arms. A defensive stance. Haise tilted his chin. Soft air blew against his cheeks.

"Well, if you're not going in to buy something, please leave."

No movement.

"I'll call the police."

Haise raised an eyebrow, almost asking an odd question of why she hadn't before and deserving what should have been an obvious answer, but decided against it, "What Ayato said last time was true."

She readjusted the sign and spoke with a muffled voice, "Why should I care? You're assholes."

A speciously-defeated sigh. His weight shifted from foot to foot. After a slight tremble, Haise raised his fingers to pull the black turtleneck higher on his neck, then hid his hands in his pockets. Light curls flowed through the morning breeze, where his attention strayed to for a brief moment.

"He's found work, but we can't live in hotels forever."

"Try a ryokan- they're nice. Now, go eat shit."

Haise gave a nod with a small smirk. Charming. He'd try again another day. And if she said no, he'd try again. And again, and again, until she eventually gave in, or, if Ayato was reinvolved, until she was forcibly coerced into housing them.

"I'll see you, then," His hand raised from the fabric with a weak wave, "Have a good day."

He could only think that Touka believed, for his suspiciously-polite speech patterns and aloof approach, this stranger must have been quite the pretensious bastard. And for what reason? Yakuza? Or a wannabe diplomat? She could assume, and he would allow her to continue to assume.

Oh well, he thought. Shoes tapped against a mix of concrete and brick-lined walkways alongside the four-lane streets and six-floor buildings, but the blending of low steps wavered in and out of his ears. He looked down to his feet, contributing to the sea of tapping, tapping, tapping. Tapping that he eventually couldn't hear.

It wasn't much good to act as thought nothing happened between the two of them, the way he simply watched as she was alone on the alley ground, left to be her own help in finding a way to stand and making it home, somewhere, somehow. It wasn't much good to lack the care he should have had. None of it was much good. He knew that.

Haise could have been ashamed, but… he also knew he was better than a pitiful criminal that any other would have made him out to be. His actions were for good cause.

But, in the same thought, a guilt was undeniable among what he convinced himself was apathy, as, no matter what cause it was, needless were the inconsiderate violences against people that had not done him wrong. The image of his old self gave the unmistakable vibe of sadness and disappointment. And, as he reached further, maybe even fear.

And who was he now? What would he follow?

He refused to consider either question, instead only looking forward to the immediate future, to the neighborhoods and shops he roamed, to the missed call message displayed on the screen of his flip phone, to the the sight of Ayato resting his head against his fist as he sat in the patterned-armchair and slept through what looked to be a painful bruise lying atop his face.

Haise hung his coat on the rack mounted to the thin wooden door behind him. Glasses were slipped on for only a moment to read a note left on the bedside desk, observed along with an alarm set on the clock's LED screen. Counting down to 02:30. It was already 23:17.

'i have a meeting with saeki outside tokyo, heard he can get us outta this. got connections. be back tuesday.'

A warm feeling spread across his face as he read the sloppily-sprawled words of 'please don't worry, i'll be fine.'

Perhaps a realization of his mistakes had hit Ayato and now he was looking for another way.

After blinking his eyes a few times, Haise crumpled the note and shoved it in his pocket, dropping down onto the hotel bed still hosting a fresh towel and two mints that were placed atop beige pillows. He merely pushed them to one side of the sheets so he could lay on the other. The heated room gave him no need to pull the covers over himself.

By the next dawn, the younger boy has already left, and it was odd to find that Haise had slept through the alarm and the other's shuffling and packing and door-opening-and-closing. He hadn't slept reasonably well, per se, but it was good enough for him. Maybe it would continue and allow him to survive the next seventy hours.

Solemn looks were sent over to the empty chair by the window. The curtain had been pulled open. The light hurt his eyes.

He sat on the edge of the mattress for several minutes before he found it in himself to drag himself out of bed and prep the day with a cold shower and a change of fresh clothes.

The ice cracked under Haise's feet as he made his way along the road leading up to the restaurant he'd been to only the day before. His step faltered he reached the large glass window, but he continued on his way without a full stop, instead only glancing inside for a moment to catch the sight of a familiar figure.

He wouldn't have been surprised if she quit. But it would have been convenient if she didn't.

He let the thoughts pass by without much concern. His gaze returned to the pavement ahead of him, white paint markings leading him mindlessly through the city.

While the walk's goal was clear in his mind, reaching the end of the path was something he couldn't quite manage to achieve, and if for a deep-rooted fear or rather an unsettling reality, it didn't matter. The destination would be the same either way… At least, he thought as much. Predictability was lost to him.

Haise stopped once he reach the edge of a neighborhood alleyway that led out into a wider street, one that he was certain he knew, shutting his eyes with a struggling breath.

Turning back around, his legs felt as though there were frozen, though he could see his body moving past the same buildings as not even five minutes before. Numb. He was numb. His fingers clutched his phone, but he wouldn't call Ayato- there was no use, and he bit his lip in a mixture of anger and anxiety. He began to question why he went out alone knowing full well the suffocating weight that the city placed on his shoulders.

Retracing his steps brought a brief relief, but his body still wavered unsteadily with every stride across wet streets, the red, yellow, and blue lights reflecting from them with a vibrant gleam. Muffled splashes of water sounded from what he assumed to be his left as cars passed by. Droplets landed on his shoes.

Haise came to a clearing of bodies hidden by coats and umbrellas as they waited for the crossing meter to signal the way to the station. It took a moment for his good eye to adjust to their proximity, trying to wind through them without touching, recoiling as clothing brushed against his arms just slightly. He could feel attention drawn to his dripping, white-tipped hair and scarred cheek, and it unsettled him. A coarse voice started whispering beside him, interrupted by a cough.

The judgement that he knew they gave seeped deep into his chest. But he forced himself to pay it no mind.

The crowd faded into movement as the traffic light turned red and the sight of bright blond- almost orange- hair, sticking out from the sea of black and brown and other muted hues, caught his attention. His throat felt sore. He worried that at any moment somebody would call out to him.

He turned away and continued onward.

The buzz of his phone was a well-received distraction that allowed him to drop his anxieties as he read the screen and then typed back the swift response of 'OK.' Black lettered-directions were displayed against white. Haise was grateful he already understood a good bit of the city, allowing him to avoid asking any other for guidance.

If he did, he was certain that something would give him away- perhaps his voice, or his appearance, or the way he carried himself, or any other arbitrary feature.

And all for something as simple as a street name. He wouldn't let it happen.

The crash from an ending adrenaline slowed his pace, but he was in no hurry, scanning the shop signs lining the sides of towering buildings and checking his phone every few moments to confirm the message's contents until he came to what he thought was his destination.

The large, vertical font on a green panel stood ahead of him, and, yet again, he reread the text.

'we lost some of our paintin shit, ya? should be in tokyu, better than some local place. take care of it.'

The sign did, in fact, spell out TOKYU HANDS. Conditioned air hit his damp skin as he went inside. The ding of automatic doors followed.

Haise looked over the rows and rows of art supplies and crafting signs, searching for the more industrial- or rather, prepped- items. Stencils, india ink, filtered flu masks, concrete stains… His wallet cried out with frustration toward what he put in his basket.

Before he reached the checkout, he took a minute to observe the large painting on display, trapped under clear plastic and covered in Sharpie marks from what must have been other customers.

He wondered what would happen to the murals in Matsumoto.

In his mind, he could still see the abandoned back-street wall, covered in pure white flowers that bled out into a red bloom of paint, prospering under the shining sun.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I edited this chapter after posting it, as I was unsatisfied with my writing and just... changed up a few things and fixed a few awkward details and phrasings, I guess.
> 
> So, I started to listen to radio when I write and I get to hear new music. A lot of pop and techno I usually don't listen to on my own, and then I have to go hunting it down. I'm unfamiliar with a lot of music, though, so it can be a pain to find song titles or band names. Like, the other day, there was this one jammin' song, but I could only remember a few of the words, and trust me there are so many songs with the line 同じ空を見上げて. So I'm always discouraged from radio. Oh well.
> 
> Also, I totally recommend putting fruit juice in your cold tea. It's so good. Distracts me from my writing insecurities, like who could be anxious about anything when you have good drinks? Not me, apparently.
> 
> Okay, enough off-topic rambling! Please enjoy this chapter! It's extra long as I wanted to make up for lost time. I'm sorry if the writing style or quality is sub-par. I know. I just don't know how to fix it.

'Ah, yes, yes. Miss Aizawa has the right idea! Now, this may seem a bit unusual for the show, and you'll see why, but we have some interesting news that we'd like to share.'

She feigned a gasp, 'Ehhh, we do, Sho-sama?'

'Yes!' The television personality grinned, 'Do you remember the gang that was caught in Nagano Prefecture three months ago, in January?'

Images from the arrest were displayed on the screen as the camera zoomed in on Aizawa's unconvincingly-shocked face. She nodded.

'Well, today, we have a special guest that claims he has met- and might even have connections to- Matsumoto's Aogiri-'

The television, airing the early-morning rerun for those stuck on a night schedule, clicked off.

He'd been reading for several minutes, but wasn't really taking anything in, even with other distractions gone from his attention. Just skimming. Only grabbing a word or two every few moments when he'd come back to himself.

Haise still couldn't manage to focus. No matter how long had passed, his mind was disconnected, so, finally, he removed his glasses and closed his book- he'd have to restart from the beginning, he decided. Some other day.

He looked down to the glow on the hardwood floor with a sigh.

Shade filled the room as red faded behind thick fabric, casting the same range of light along his skin. Few bright flashes passed by the window on occasion. Haise couldn't stand to pull away the curtains, but his eyes could still capture the ever-changing painting of colour and movement several metres below through the folded openings between them.

In the past months, Haise felt that he had come to be more comfortable with their environment- perhaps, in an ironic sense, more accepting of the place that the thought of elicited a stabbing sensation throughout his body despite the fact that he was the one who insisted it to be their escape in the first place.

Really, the way he had come to dealt with it was avoiding the outside world in intervals, two days locked inside and one day wandering, deciding what to do with his empty time.

There was an obvious difficulty that prevented him from finding proper work, what with the lack of identification papers and completed education and, most off-putting, the discrepancy between who he truly was and who the system said he should be. Ayato's luck was found only in that he had more experience than the elder and could worm his way into organizations that, when truly considered, he had no place in, but could get away with as the underground always needed more hands to handle what they couldn't do with their own white-collared wrists.

The boy would come back to the hotel or roadside-inn or temporary home-stay with blood on his clothes and cracks in his bones. It wasn't much different than the previous lifestyle they had taken, of course, but in these instances, the two were alone. Truly alone. Haise wasn't a fan of it.

They didn't care for him the same way that somebody with a familial-esque responsibility over him did, and, instead, they abused him. The idea came with a heaviness that dragged him down. To them, Ayato was just a low-life that could be kicked to the curb. They lacked any respect for people like him in a place like Tokyo.

The two boys were better than just thugs, though- deserving better. He scowled.

Grey eyes stared down at the red and white book cover placed on the chabudai, but he had no interest in reaching to grab it and return to a useless attempt to absorb its contents. He just didn't know how else to pass things by, unfortunately.

Ayato sat on a floor cushion directly across from him, and glanced down from the elder's face to the book and back again, his fingers tapping on wood. His lips moved to speak, but no sound managed to reach past the edge of the table.

He tried again, and this time moved his hand in Haise's direction to catch his attention.

"Saeki's contact's gonna be here tonight. He's interested in meeting you."

"I see."

Jason, Haise recalled, was the man he was to discuss things with. The idea that it would happen so soon was not favorable, but it wasn't as though he could object any further than he already had in the several days passed. Haise and Ayato sat quietly for a moment, the former looking down at his lap or the floor or anywhere else to avoid any more direct interaction.

Haise just couldn't wrap his mind around it. He thought it was risky. Foolish. But, of course, the child would go through with it, anyway.

And there they were, waiting for the anticipated event as the wall-bound clock ticked by, one painful second at a time, too loud for Haise to ignore. He wished he could just go back to reading.

Ayato popped open a can of Kirin. He offered a drink, but Haise waved it away.

"Hey, one of these days you need to actually do something."

"Ayato..." Haise licked his dry lips.

Silence. Haise stood to turn on a lamp in the corner of the room and pull open the curtains. The sky was a dim blue with red hues before the sun's dawning, and the city seemed so peaceful, far different that its usual state.

"You can't always just sit here, what, pitying yourself? It's not enough-"

The elder raised his hand, "You can't decide whether I've been doing enough or not, Ayato."

Fingers pressed against the icy glass, Haise watched the few bodies and vehicles move on by, driving to work in the morning's rising light or walking to the station to meet the six AM train or going out to meet friends for unconventional drinks. People young and old. A busy rush and a slow laze. Intermingling.

How unpleasant, the idea that Ayato was suggesting, though it was not so much a new idea than it was simply something distasteful to the elder. He was well aware of wavering recession he'd been holding onto, but he didn't want to think that he was doing it to himself for pity. He didn't want to be accused of not trying to fulfill his role. Denial seemed much nicer, even if he didn't realize that it was denial he was choosing.

The air was uneasy and irritatingly thick.

"'M sorry..." It sounded like a whisper from Ayato, "I know you're not okay, I'm just tired."

"Then sleep," His teeth bit down on his tongue in a fidget, searching for inconspicuous ways to release his stress without truly acting on it, and contributing to his dismissal of Ayato's words. He understood very well the tired that he spoke of, the way it reached far further than any lack of sleep or post-work exhaustion, how it was something deep rooted into one's being in an inescapable way, meant to drag behind them and pull them down into a so-called 'slumber.' But it was easier to poke fun at the reality than to go any deeper.

As such, avoidant humour tended to replace his shy discomfort these days.

"Not that kind of tired."

"Mhm."

He could just barely catch the light 'cling' of Ayato's nails flicking against the side of the can, "Maybe you'd go back to how you were the first day if you'd just get drunk enough."

Haise chuckled and shook his head. The idea wasn't entirely unattractive- in face, he would have taken an alcoholic, adrenaline high over his overpowering, anxious fear, which washed out any positives of his mood hardly a week from their arrival. He was getting tired of it, as well.

"Maybe."

"Then why don't you?"

"Not so much a fan of the taste anymore."

Ayato hummed in reply and took a swig of his beer. It was a common scent in their hotel room, one that Haise quite disliked but had been forced to grow accustomed to after years of being in his company.

And now he was the one to buy it for him.

Their tastes were polarizing, with one drinking not a drop in more than six months and the other never seeming to stop. An unbalance that they should have tried to settle. But Haise didn't see the point in doing so, as, with their dysfunction, just one change would mean nothing. Harmful escapes would find their way back into their lives one way or another- Ayato would only find something to replace it, and if that was the case, then he would let it be.

It wasn't as though Ayato didn't enable the elder's own habits.

The sour taste of stale saliva sat in his mouth, and he reached down to take a sip from Ayato's drink. Bitter. Disgusting. He cringed.

"Thought I'd give it a try."

The younger gave an amused smirk, taking the can from Haise's hand and swirling it to hear the sloshing of the liquid, judging how much was left. Haise sat back down on the sofa, adjusting himself so his head used one end as a pillow and his feet rested on the other. The sky was becoming lighter. The sounds of Tokyo layered atop one another. It wouldn't be long before it came to full life.

"Wake me up at nine. I'm going out, so you can stop complaining."

In his brief visits through the area, Haise had become acquainted with several places- a quiet library that he only ever browsed, a market with the fish and meat selections that both of the boys favored, an art shop with specialized brushes and rollers that he was just waiting to use- it went one, but there was still ever only one place that would catch his eye every time he passed it. Out of awareness and familiarity with it, he assumed. It was much easier a place to visit with a set purpose that sparked up anxiety less and less as the days went by. The cafe, as uneasy it was to visit, had become a sort of stability.

Maybe he would try a pastry that day, instead of just coffee. It depended on what both his physical and mental appetite were up for, though it wouldn't matter when they never really ever agreed.

He tried to recall the cafe's menu.

"You sleep too much," Ayato's voice echoed just enough for Haise to hear as he spoke into the can, another drink following.

Haise closed his eyes, "I just stayed up for thirty hours. I hardly sleep; the problem's that you never do."

He turned his body to face the backboard cushions. If the younger had anything else to say, he must not have tried very hard to get it across, as everything became, in a way, eerily quiet.

His eyes snapped open to a warm hand shaking his shoulder, and, in his groggy, freshly-rested daze, felt a violent panic rise from his stomach up through his throat for the seconds following his wake. His eyes darted between its cool cobalt tone and the bright light above.

Realizing its mistake, the hand pulled away. Ayato stood, hovering above, his face a bright, inebriated red only inches away. The boy's lips read like an awkward laugh, though his eyes were tinged with concern toward Haise's racing heart and gasping breaths. Watching. He waited until Haise seemed more settled to speak. 

"It's fifteen to ten."

His phone confirmed it. His skin was uncomfortably sweaty. The honking of trucks sounded outside. Haise felt uneasy in a way he couldn't soothe as he propped himself up on one arm, rubbing at his lids with the other, system still trying to stabilize itself after such an unprecedented scare. A sense of doom digging into the center of his chest. Nagging thoughts in his mind. It was waved off as a lingering of wake.

"Why didn't you wake me up earlier?"

"Seemed like you needed more time," He pulled away with the hint of something more to say in his expression, but Haise didn't ask.

A grumbling came with the thought that it must have been his mentioning of unhealthy schedules that caused Ayato to be just a tiny bit considerate, just enough to go against what Haise had asked, and better yet it was encouraged by his drunkenness. The evidence of more than one beer can covered the table. It was surprising how well he could hold it.

But that behavior wasn't unusual for him. Ayato was a natural rebel, from what Haise had gathered over time, and it spread to even the most simple of things when it wasn't involved with either of their safety or work or Aogiri. It definitely never happened when it was in respect for Haise's wants. But he knew he was seeing his sister, and that was not something to be respected.

As he readied himself to leave, he hoped that the boy would sober up by his return, or at least by the visit of their guest, because, even as Haise wanted nothing more than for it to be called of, he also didn't want to make such a negative impression, undoubtedly an embarrassment for Ayato's future calls. An alcoholic wasn't impressive, no matter how he behaved once too far gone. It just simply wasn't.

 

Haise stepped outside, eyes drawn to the slight rustling of the leaves lining the bricked path as he made his way down an unfamiliar street that would soon enough lead into what was familiar. The shops were all different. Endless variations filled the ward. There was never enough time to see them all, nor enough time to acquaint himself in even a way that he could remember, the surrounding neighborhoods soon becoming something that would never be considered again.

It was fine, though. He didn't need to acquaint himself if they would only relocate in another few days. He'd miss its more quiet and neat appeal, however. Home-like calm wasn't too easy to find in such a place.

He sighed to himself. It was the way it was.

It was nice, of course, but as the seconds ticked by, step by step, Haise couldn't deny the jittery sensation in his lungs. The environment was off. His senses uneven. He could pinpoint it back to his recent waking- like he wasn't supposed to get up that hour, that day, perhaps not leave his room at all. Pace quickened to outdistance his feelings, and, eventually, the same business-oriented avenue that he had seen nearly every week came into view.

Haise knew that Touka was more or less an hour into her shift, as he had somewhat-memorized her schedule in the past months, so his timing wasn't so inconvenient to be upset with Ayato for his well-meant negligence. It was out of his view, on the low end of his concerns.

Concentration was placed on reestablishment, poising himself so his awkward gait didn't seem to point him out as a person of concern, though he didn't think he was so obvious just yet, his balance a more internal struggle clear only to him, while most others would only assume a tiredness of the morning. Involuntary hyper-awareness of passing gazes and perceived thoughts didn't care for reality, though.

The number of customers in the building was off-putting.

He spotted a stool at the far corner of the bar where the teal-toned Touka stood and prepared a tray to carry out to a table. She glanced up at the movement of the seat and gave a tiny bow of her head before heading out. A very subtle impatience tinted her sigh when she returned.

"What'll you have, Sasaki?" She switched on a sink behind her so she could run her hands under the stream for just a second, and then, after drying them off, let her eyes fall down the list on her clipboard.

"Just a plain," Elbow propped on the bar counter and chin resting atop his hand, his experience of fluctuating vertigo and tinnitus was still trying to remain. Shaking fingers were an accent to the sensation. Unpleasant.

"Just a second-" Touka's attention was caught by a group of customers raising their hands, one mouthing the words 'excuse me.' He waited. And then she was back in front of him, "One black and three specials, Yocchan!"

The girl that she called out to shined a smile and a thumbs up. She reached into a drawer. Haise's bottom lids burned, almost watering, from a bag of spices that had been plopped down on the counter, some residue rising through the air. It itched. Touka gave a downturn of the corner of her mouth in passive apology.

She leaned over the counter as she waited for her next order, "You look a bit sick. Are you doing okay?"

"No," Haise shook his head, "It's just nerves."

"Ah."

A coworker waved her over. Needed a refill on some coffee ground he didn't hear the name of, apparently. She went to and from a staff door, and he rubbed his eyes again.

He wanted to look over the cafe, but felt he couldn't for the irksome impression that, if he did, he'd see something that he didn't want to see. She scribbled down another order.

"So what's got you out of it, eh?"

His restless hands played with a decoration up against the low separator between the customer's side and the worker's side, "Mm… I don't trust a friend of an associate your brother's inviting over. Can't leave, either."

"Sounds about right," A smirk and a questioning raise of a brow expressed themselves on her face, "But an associate? Seems too professional for that dumbass."

"I'm just using professional language."

She nodded, emanating a soft glow for the lighter side of teasing, but, after a moment, turned to him with doubt as though she had just come to a realization, "This isn't you trying to convince me to let you stay with me, right?"

Haise frowned, "Not at all. It's just messing with me."

Alleviated shoulders dropped, but some of the tension remained, upheld by something new, something worrisome, found in the way Haise opened up, even if just so slightly.

"I feel like something bad will happen."

She gave a curt hum.

'To me, I mean,' Haise wanted to say.

The girl placed in front of him a small cup filled near to the brim with dark, strong-scented liquid. He stared down at it, the ceiling lights reflecting off. He waited for the steam to fade before raising it up to his mouth. The bitterness was refreshing, well worth the caffeine-induced anxiety that would surely accompany him.

He remembered reading that the two were disposed to linking. And it seemed that from years of drinking, instead of remaining accustomed to it, he was beginning to reject it.

Slight hesitance stumbled her feet as she had to return to waitressing. It was her job, after all, and she couldn't have been irresponsible enough to treat her customers with disregard. It was a shame the day was so busy.

Another sip from the heated glass. Ten minutes passed in relative solitude, enjoying the drink on his own, as usual, but his mind began to wander, debated on a question that was just one of many things preventing him from appreciating the cafe as he usually did.

He scanned over the counter, taking in the lines of steeping presses and steam-filled drip pots, but very few of the items in front of him held any use or interest. A pad of sticky notes and a pen were noticed beside a jar of donation tips. The staff- which he still couldn't quite face- wouldn't mind if just one note was taken from the stack. After finishing his coffee, he reached for them. His grip tightened on the pen as he thought of what to write, but it didn't take much longer than a few seconds- four or five- to choose few words. A bill was pulled out of his wallet and the note stuck on top.

He hoped that she would see it, maybe not now, but rather when she had the time. A lasting inclination told him it was crucial.

'0263 XXX XXXX call me today @ 5.'

The mid-day warmth was welcoming, but, after his body adjusted to it, the rising temperature was yet again lost by walking into another conditioned building. It still seemed so frozen with the young spring's weather, recovering from a winter spirit's annual snowfall, or the staff just hadn't switch to the heating system, either way having the same, skin-prickling result.

It wasn't a problem to him, despite the annoyance it was always presented as. The snow and unpredictable seasons of Japan's more central regions was missed from time to time, and even the north, with a long-held winter reputation, was a nice consideration- nostalgia inspiring, even as it would have been more difficult to adapt to. He still wouldn't mind it.

However, it just wasn't the same kind of cold. It wasn't of crisp air or the well-known sensation of pink cheeks and noses. Just the industrial cold of the hotel's lobby.

Its quiet emptiness was a comfort, and the seats more comfortable than the last, allowing him to relax himself into the fabric.

Ayato was waiting for him a few floors above. Cleaning up the mess piling up on the table. Putting together papers for their visitor. Flipping through limited channels on the television. Maybe just sitting on the small sofa beside the hotel bed, delaying the meeting, the same as Haise, even though it meant nothing the moment that the person in question arrived.

It was still so early, though. He had time. Too much time.

That was a common theme, it seemed.

But he was grateful for the peace that decided to show itself every now and then, most likely to appear in instances such as this where there was nothing else for him to do. Nothing important. Nothing concerning. Nothing imperative. Nothing. For once, not even the stress forced onto him by his situation could take that away from him.

A weak yawn was released without opening his mouth, more like a deep sigh though not for any emotional influence, simply oxygen. His brain was still tired. Unfortunately, sleep wasn't an option, though he'd see about it later in the day if things remained as slow and lazy after the anticipated meeting.

After experiencing the solace of even a passing rest, he hoped that would be the case.

To keep himself engaged enough to prevent his consciousness from drifting, Haise pulled a small, leather bound book from the shelves of a lamp table beside him. Pleasant was the texture of the hard cover, and the interruption by indented lettering and intricate patterns was only more enjoyable. Antique. The spine read 'Edgar Allan Poe.' Left by some other visitor who had never come back to retrieve it, he assumed, as it was unlikely for the hotel to carry such a book, in English especially.

It was a nice change from his current read, a more modern piece though filled with quite a bit more despair than Poe could have ever wished to fit into his lines. The significantly-less-gloomy pick was fitting for the gloom-less moment. Easier to take in. Enjoyable, even.

The inside cover had a note written in the corner. 'To my dear friend, Ken,' He could make out the word, but he had to reread it to make sure his understanding was correct. He swallowed. Just a coincidence. Many Ken's filled the world, and there was nothing to mind in the concept that a Ken had passed stayed the night some time before. Haise disregarded the sloppy kanji and continued flipping through, past the publisher's note and the vague categorizations of the table of contents. Some words he didn't know, while others he had come to use in passing conversation. It made things interesting.

As his eyes followed lines through the book, he wondered if the nearby clock tower was chiming the hour, filling the air with a soothing music that he'd probably never completely appreciate. It would have been nice to, though, the same as when he was little- mirroring the few days his mom was free she'd take him out, and he'd sit in the plaza and listen.

Even back then he was reading poetry.

Those were the days that reached into the following years when literature was a passion, but for an unfortunate period of time it was something he could only indulge in once every few months. A matter of free time and convenience. It did mean, however, that his empty waiting was perfect to consume a good number of the thoughtfully-chosen words strung along every aging page, trying to remember their meanings as he read.

Movement was caught on the edge of his peripheral vision and he glanced over.

He would have guessed it was a foreigner from the way the man seemed too professional and well-kept to have dyed his hair, but Haise knew better. Rather than a simple foreigner, it was the contact, he felt, but it was more than that causing his pulse to speed and his breathing to stifle in contrast of each other.

It couldn't have been, right? No, of course not. It was just his paranoia, endless in its damage and corrupted associations.

But what if it was?

The idea coupled with the image in his mind no doubt made him feel queasy, like he was going to collapse in on himself. His heart dropped down into his stomach. Violently.

Haise pulled out his phone, the front screen displaying one bar of battery, and flipped it open to check his messages. Nothing. He closed it. The man at the front counter was speaking to an assistant. He opened his phone again. Still nothing. A blinking highlight surrounded the contacts' box. But he never pressed 'select.'

Instead, he looked down at the granite flooring, his phone making an echoing clunk as he set it down on the glass-topped coffee table.

The coarse volume of the man's laugh shook his body, feeling far too sinister even as he knew it was only in response to a harmless curiosity asked by the receptionist. Haise began counting down under his breath, focused on the spots scattered across the tile, and the high-pitched ring returned. He wished he could pull the source out from his skull. If he did, maybe it would all stop.

Waiting, Haise closed his eyes, hearing only the internal ringing- focusing on it, more like, to pull himself away from the unwelcome presence in the room. It was only his paranoia, he told himself. Only paranoia.

Heeled shoes resonated as they made contact with the granite. The man came to stand adjacent to Haise, waiting for attention to face him, but it was several minutes before Haise ever dared to lift his head.

Those eyes and the features that framed them, sharp and unforgivable, were stabbing.

Just paranoia. Only paranoia. Paranoia. Paranoia. Paranoia.

The sudden, amplified blend of bursting emotions overwhelmed Haise enough to shut down entirely. Fingers dug down with enough force to tear apart stinging skin. His throat was rugged, stressed until he was forced to cough it out, his voice acting as collateral damage. The hands belonging to people out of his view gripped his shoulders, but the restraint obtained no reaction.

"I apologize, Jason," The receptionist didn't seem to know how to address the man nor the situation, "We can move you to another room to wait as we take care of our guest-"

Her voice faded in uncertainty. Another staff member spoke. Haise couldn't hear a single sound escaping their throats, and his vision was wavering.

What a disgusting smile, he thought.

≁

Haise's lids were resisting as he tried to open them, and even the dark room, blinds closed and lights dimmed, were no help to his struggle. The sensation even worse, however, settling in his lungs and reaching to the smallest of his joints, was brought to his attention as he took a deep breath to test the throbbing of his ribs. Limbs were sore with a burn. He groaned.

His entire being felt drained, every last drop of energy cleaned out to leave him an empty shell with no strength to do anything but continue to lay on a couch in the middle of a room, debating whether or not to return to his sleep. The pain rendered him unsure if it was even possible.

The rich glow of sunset shine from whatever exposed sections of glass it could fit through. Haise made out the dark shape of furniture in the faint light. It was unfamiliar. Different from the room he was expecting.

His brain couldn't handle any concern over it, though, only able to fade in and out of darkness.

The door creaked open and light flooded in around a worried silhouette. His tired eyes watched the figure stand there, revealed to be Ayato, unsurprisingly, as he turned his head to the lit hall at the calling of a voice, before the boy stepped inside. The brightness was lessened by the door slowly closing to leave only a few inches, but still distracting even so.

Ayato kneeled down in front of him, mirroring as he had when Haise first woke that day. A small smile acted as a replacement for a greeting, but Ayato didn't return it, only frowning. His face was almost too dark to see.

"How you doing?"

Haise's smile dropped and he avoided the other's eyes. His hand rested on his forehead. Without trying to speak, he mouthed, 'I don't want to talk about it.'

So Ayato didn't talk about it, but by his expression it was obvious that he wanted to, that if he didn't he'd continue to be bothered by concern, silently or not. He let it go for the time being, however. Best not to provoke any troubles.

The blue-haired male sat down on the wood floor and leaned against an uncomfortable table corner. Raspy breathing filled the room. Haise wondered how long he would sit there, staring, nothing else to say.

Nothing else to say- until he opened his mouth again, of course, "You're a real piece of shit."

That was when Haise let himself look over, confused eyebrows accompanied by a questioning hum- all that he could manage.

"You had me all freaked out, worried like crazy over your stupid ass," His mumbling was embarrassed, looking not directly at Haise but rather a spot on the couch below his head, "I'd never seen you like that, dude."

"Yeah?" Haise croaked. He wanted to say more, but the idea didn't seem too wonderful for his state.

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry."

Ayato shook his head, an indirect way to say that, despite his complaints, it wasn't a bother and Haise's behavior was something he shouldn't have blamed himself for. No apologies necessary. But that wouldn't stop him from apologizing, anyway, if not for sincerity then for courtesy.

He switched his focus to the external environment rather than the internal, raising his head to glance around the room again and then sigh at his own helplessness.

"Where are we?" His words were more a whisper than anything, but he was content as he could at least hear his own voice, "It's not the hotel."

An answer wasn't immediately received, and when it was it seemed reluctant, "The cafe."

Haise tilted his head to ask him to repeat himself. He did, just loud enough for Haise to take in. It would have been fitting to ask again just as a comedic disbelief, but he wasn't in the mood, nor did he think Ayato was, either.

"The back room?"

"The staff lounge on the second floor."

He nodded. The reason why would have been questioned if he wasn't afraid his voice would be lost again if he strained too much, but Ayato sensed his silent question and explained without a verbal prompt.

"When you, um," The boy took a solemn pause, "When you went into an episode, they called me down, yeah? They said the guy left, and I didn't know what to do, so we just took care of you since I told 'em not to call the police or anything. Then your phone rang."

Haise looked to the ceiling as he recalled the note he left on the counter that morning. So she had done what he asked. How inconvenient of a time, unfortunately.

"I picked it up, Touka was all pissed and I thought you two had a problem goin' on, but I guess not."

She had done what he asked, but didn't necessarily want to, then. But she still did. He couldn't ever tell if he was growing on her or if she had only been hiding her irritation to uphold a polite figure. Another nod signaled for Ayato to continue.

"I explained what happened, and you really didn't want to stay, so she said to just… bring you over."

"Not to her place?"

"This is her place. The building's got apartments up top."

"Ah."

Their speech halted again, this time truly without much else to say. He didn't know what was worth asking or worth explaining. So he opted for nothing at all. It was a balance for Ayato's excessive speaking in comparison to usual. They both preferred silent company when it was now just the two of them finding their way, it seemed, save for the times that the younger needed to vent or argue or complain about something that Haise often didn't entirely comprehend or care to comprehend.

But it was enough that they both felt satisfied with their interactions. Even as the negatives glared so obvious, once one got past insecurities and bad habits reliant on each other to curb, they could see that neither needed much else, just a job to bring in money for food and shelter and people to network with.

At least since they left Aogiri, that was, though he wasn't sure for how much longer things would remain simple.

Haise didn't want to consider what they would do when everything was pulled out from under their feet again, but he couldn't help but do so- what would happen? Where would they go? He didn't know. All he knew was where he was now, laying in a dark office above an Ikebukuro cafe, recovering from an event he himself could hardly recall. And he convinced himself that was all that mattered.

It'd come to a point where he could only afford to pick and choose his anxieties. Those that weren't embraced to wear him down were instead treated as nonexistent- not an improved alternative, but he managed.

Haise winced at a stabbing pain in his chest, his stress worsening the damage. He shut his eyes. Even as time passed, he could still feel Ayato's presence beside him, not wanting to leave him alone so vulnerable. The thought granted a relief that he hoped would then pass into sleep. And when he woke, Ayato would still be there.

The door creaked again, and he felt the light shining through his eyelids, but they didn't open, and he instead took the opportunity to doze off while he could.

≁

It was strangely refreshing to be in a public space while it was closed. Haise felt like he was intruding where he shouldn't, but he couldn't deny that the shop felt so clean and fresh without any other customer. No chatting. No movement. Not even the scent of fresh brew.

They'd brought him down for a small breakfast, which he picked at indecisively and without appetite, but was thankful for it nevertheless. While he ate, Touka and two other men- her managers? Coworkers? He didn't know- but they had left him to discuss in private.

Ayato sat on the stairs to the second floor, waiting as well, and it seemed like an undedicated attempt to eavesdrop, though he didn't imagine Ayato could hear very much of the conversation. Occasionally, he would glance over to Haise with soft eyes and even a weak smile, and he'd return it with the nod of his head.

The rice and eggs were getting cold. Haise didn't think he could eat any more than the few bites he had taken without his stomach rejecting it entirely. He frowned.

"Do you think I can drink from that sink?" His voice was still rough.

Ayato shrugged. Deciding that he would, Haise stood from his seat to search behind the counters for dishes. The first he spotted were the cappuccino mugs, good enough for a small drink, so he slowly switched on the tap to fill it. The sip he took was lacking in the usual Tokyo taste. Properly filtered.

Washing out the cup was no trouble to him, but as he didn't know the cafe's disposal methods he didn't dare try to toss his breakfast. It would just have to sit there until somebody else took care of it, then. The still-full bowl felt like a waste.

He didn't expect much to come from just a few days of stay in the building- it was luck that they'd even allowed him to stay so long and had offered him food and rest and care, and Ayato must have been even more concerned for their situation. He checked them out of their hotel and brought their stuff to the upstairs staff room, and the stubbornness of Haise's mood meant it was difficult to manage another place.

Sometimes, Haise thought he was being unnecessarily troublesome, just a burden on Ayato's work. What a pain it was to watch over someone four years his senior yet couldn't properly contain himself. What a pain to handle somebody who could hardly function on a day-to-day basis. Somebody who could do nothing to stop the damage he was doing.

He went on pretending that he didn't have any idea of his actions. And sometimes, he really didn't. Those were the days he most wished he had control over. Instead, while enacting those very moments it was like he was watching everything happen from afar without any awareness or care to change.

Recently, every day seemed to be like that.

His nails clicked down on the wood over and over, moving like a fluid wave of restlessness. A habit he seemed to pick up from Ayato. It was lucky neither were often agitated by inattentive actions like clicking pens and shaking legs, as they both held their fair share of annoyances. When it came to nerves, Haise had the worst of it.

Feet made their way down the stairs, stepping around a silent Ayato and walking to Haise, where Touka stood, arms crossed.

"Okay, you," She pointed to him, light hostility in her voice, "You two can stay in my spare room, but only as long as you guys don't pull any bullshit."

He bit the skin on his lower lip as he twiddled his thumbs, waiting expectantly.

"No drugs, no weapons, no stealing, no vandalism- nothing. Got it?"

He nodded, "I understand. Thank you."

It was well known to himself that their activities wouldn't suddenly halt just because someone said to, and with what seemed to be the hope of safety for a while longer, the two boys only had a better chance to become properly involved in their own involuntary troubles and collect the pieces of what was left of their group.

But he could at least promise to her that she would not be involved- he never liked when others were, anyway. He owed her that much.

Touka huffed, appearing somewhat satisfied though he couldn't really say. She let it be, though, and so did he. Her eyes softened just a tad. The pressure on his lip lessened.

"Why are you doing this?"

She pulled his plate away from the front counter, scraping the contents into a bin and placing it atop a dish pile while she ran the water. Short hair was pulled back with pins so she could work without it falling into her eyes, as it always did. It was only one of several quirks he had picked up on.

A sigh, "Because, to be honest with you, Sasaki, I'm actually a decent person."

"You don't know me."

"I know you enough."

"You don't know what I do."

"I've seen the news," He could hear the clenched teeth in her speech, "I've heard your conversations."

The tone shifted. Her comment wasn't so appreciated, only causing his organs to stir unnaturally, but there was no use in trying to mention it.

"So, why?"

She placed the dish down in the bubbled sink before turning toward Haise. Her displeasure was evident, and he could tell he was beginning to work away at nerves that already didn't seem so tightly-held. Touka looked to her brother, then back to the male sitting across from her, surrounded by thought.

"Don't make me change my mind."

He didn't want to dissuade her in the first place. Trust just wasn't easily held on to, no matter if it was a trust in him, or in other people, and it resulted in distracting responses that would give way as to what reasons hid behind their claims. But, nevertheless, he dropped his questioning. The bar stool suddenly felt uncomfortable. The air was stale.

She turned back to the sink.

Haise lowered his eyes, unsure if he should have been glad for her kindness while he still felt so… uneasy. It was only the product of recent circumstances, of course, but it wasn't easily shaken, especially in a case without proper coping. Only avoidance and redirection. Paranoia.

His mind was stuck on that word, as if it was the only thing he could believe.

It wasn't until it began to hurt that he'd noticed he was clenching his jaw, and it was much needed to let his joints rest. A good stretch. Shaking hands. Ayato watched him try to escape the self-inspired atmosphere.

"How long?" Haise could tell he was too quiet and vague, but would wait for the girl to respond before correcting himself.

"Hm?"

"For how long will we stay with you?"

Touka reached for a towel hanging above the drying rack. In the time it took her to respond, Ayato had moved from the bottom of the stairs over to sit beside Haise, holding his hand out as though in invitation to grasp it. Haise only instinctively edged away.

"I'm not sure."

Confusion passed through his face for a split second, most likely thinking over how Haise was always the one to initiate comforting intimacy that the younger had grown accustomed to. It was the only attempt he made in the past days, not even daring to place a hand on Haise's shoulder when he couldn't hear him, as Haise always retreated. But he understood.

Even as Haise still enjoyed his company, some things were simply too much.

The gesture was appreciated even though he refused to take advantage of it- Ayato's cold, harsh personality was still caring, and it showed in the way he asked an occasional question about Haise's emotions or the seemingly insignificant motions made to reassure their relationship.

Whether it would be taken the wrong way, even in a conservative, mindful-of-personal-space society such as Japan, was never a concern after a condition akin to separation anxiety had filled a good portion of all his aforementioned improper coping methods. The only difference between the past and the present was a rediscovered disgust with himself and physical interaction.

He skimmed over the idea, not daring to let himself over-analyze what he was afraid of and what he wasn't. It sent shivers down his spine.

"Would you say a month, at least?" He stuttered on the first few syllables.

"Yeah, but I don't know past that."

Haise could work with it. He knew Ayato was saving cash, and this only granted the chance to build themselves up to where they'd been before. And with his most popular destination in the city now his home for the time being, it meant he would have to find some other place to say he wasn't just wasting his isolated days.

Separate of their conduct, however, it would take considerably longer to reach that point.

The sun was reaching closer to noon in the cloudless sky, friendly in comparison to recent weather. The older-looking clock on the wall confirmed it. It wasn't that he slept in late, though, but that he'd lain on the sofa, the one he used morning and night, unable to close his eyes for rest. But in a similar fashion, contradicting his insomnia, he found it difficult to rise, as well.

So it resulted in mornings like this, where he was hardly out of bed by a not-so-decent eleven o'clock. His body was becoming sluggish with his ennui. Sooner or later, he'd lose muscle to his own self-negligence, ignoring his body's need for both input and output of energy.

But that was simply how things were, mind grasping out for whatever ways necessary to hold itself together and somehow still justify it, and if that meant slowly becoming more and more helpless to his rot, then so be it.

For a brief moment, Haise could hear voices exchanged beside him and he zoned back in to reality, and found himself lost in the middle of an unknown discussion. Sound that had faded made its way back into his ears.

"...an accident?" She noticed Haise's returning attention, so she directed the conversation to him, "Is that what happened to your eye, Sasaki?"

He didn't answer, only stared, as though he was still in his own world, but in reality he understood what she was asking. He just couldn't speak. The words wouldn't leave his mouth.

Ayato leaned forward, "Yeah, it is. That's it."

"I didn't ask you, did I?"

The younger sibling sneered, "You did at first."

"Shut it," Touka spat. Her hand reached over the counter to wave in front of his face, gauging his consciousness to the situation in worry that it had already disappeared yet again, "I can tell you weren't born like that, that's fine. I had an accident with my eye, too."

"Yeah, but you can still see fine," Ayato smacked the side of her head.

"Hey-"

"And he doesn't cover that shit like you do."

She scowled, stepping away from the counter to avoid Ayato's advances though still waiting for an answer to her question. In his silence, she whispered an 'I dare you to hit me again, bastard.'

He commented on their first altercation, the way she did nothing to defend herself, with an unashamed pride.

A scoff followed a string of threats and expletives. Haise didn't intervene. His voice only mixed into their arguing as he pushed away from the bar and steadied himself to his feet.

"Yeah, an accident."

Touka pulled out of her preoccupation to listen to him, though since he had already finished with his curt response she could only watch him slowly make his way into the back room, the stairs giving in just slightly as his feet fell down to the wooden boards. His brain wouldn't process what either of the two had said, what she had asked, what it had triggered- it only knew the feeling of wanting to purge the emptiness of his stomach.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Believe it or not, I gave a boy in the class below me my number. But he never called. Probably already knows I'm interested, but I think in a situation where a straight (?) guy is hit on by a gay guy they'll only ever see me as a creep, so it's not like I expect much to come out of it.
> 
> Also, I don't care for Touken, and for more reasons than just that I've had trouble reading the recent releases, but js Kaneki's wedding outfit was... Great. Wonderful. Love it. What A Look.
> 
> Okay, please enjoy this chapter! Trying to figure out how to move the story at a proper pace instead of how I always play these things out in my head, haha. If I could, I would just write filler after filler after filler, day by day by day.

_'You won your innocence, using any deception.'_

The phone rang out from its spot on top of his chest, his eyes opening with a wince at both the sound and the light allowed to shine with pulled-back curtains. Haise checked the time on the small digital screen.

_'That's all.'_

Eleven. Almost noon. Three other alarms had been set, he knew, but his body, left exhausted after nights of finding himself unable to rest for more than thirty minutes at a time, had slept through with no disturbance. Not even his good ear let music sneak into his unconsciousness, it seemed.

The sounds felt rough in his head. Scratching. Unsettling. But he didn't want to move, not even his hands just a few centimeters to cut off the jarring words of the song, so he let it speak to him, to the empty room, as he stared up at the white ceiling.

_'Let's go out together, I feel nauseous here.'_

The staff was annoyed. Customers could hear. Surely.

_'You threw away a bible, and I picked it up.'_

Somehow, he found it within himself to grasp the phone, receiving an odd sensation from the sudden lack of the device's vibration against his skin through fabric, from the lack of resonance through his body, the kind that made him sick. He could still feel it sinking into his chest and his hands and his mind as his clumsy fingers ran along the side of it, searching for an edge to separate.

_'This mind no longer belongs to anyone.'_

It flipped open, the music stopped, and all he could hear was the loud chirping of the birds outside. Black feathers rustled along a wire just outside the window. Their caws interrupted the twittering. His thoughts interrupted their caws.

_This mind no longer belongs to anyone. Kono kokoro wa mou dare no mono demo nai. This mind no longer belongs to anyone. Kono kokoro wa mou dare no mono demo nai. This mind no longer belongs to anyone._

He dropped the phone into the cushions and brought his now-free hand up to his hair, holding it back, and he sighed a sigh that only conveyed heartache. There was a vague command to pull himself up from the couch, but it didn't reach, didn't budge. His body felt heavy. But that was alright with him. He didn't quite want to get up, not just yet, and it was uncertain when he would want to. Ten minutes. Twenty. Forty. An hour or two.

Eventually.

Haise couldn't go back to sleep, and by the time the sun had begun to set again he had yet to accomplish anything that he would be proud to say. The same as every day. It was only when the staff changed shifts for the last time that night that he could lift himself and balance on weakened legs, proceeding to take lazy steps into the lit hallway. There was energy down the stairs to his right. Nothing to his left. Only another staircase and an open door to the employee kitchen.

It didn't have much more than a small oven and a rice cooker, perhaps some collections of snacks and non-perishables in the cupboards, but they were ignored for the small fridge in the corner that he knew was only used for thawing meat, vegetables, and drinks. A dead appetite made self-neglect simple. Just something to push away the twisting emptiness of his stomach.

"You finally awake?" The voice was muddled with the shuffling of his feet against wood as he walked into the room. Ayato sat at the small, round table with an expression that held quite a bit more emotion than Haise's own, though it wasn't much of anything good in comparison.

"I've been awake."

Ayato gave an 'ah' and watched the other kneel down to the fridge. Chilly, refrigerated air came in a slow crawl rather than a rush. It gave off an inaudible buzz. A package sat on the bottom shelf, slightly dampened, while the door held just a few bottles of barley tea- not exactly what he wanted, he could feel, but it was satisfactory as is. He grabbed one, enjoying the cold that spread across his hand, then crouched in front of the small door in a debate of whether or not it was worth the energy to grasp the edge of the counter and hoist himself back up.

It was a bit tempting to let himself sink to the floor, but... the chair across from Ayato was close enough to manage.

He held the bottle in his lap, the smooth translucency contrasting with his chapped and dirty skin, and he forced himself to snap open the plastic top. The plastic wrapping crinkled. Chopsticks tapped against Ayato's plate as he picked at a slice of pork.

"You want some?"

It took a moment for Haise to nod, but when he did Ayato pushed the plate across the table. It was crunchy. Panko. Washed down with his first sip of tea. Immediately, he could feel his stomach become dissatisfied- or it was just his mind doing so, not very welcoming toward weight of anything but liquid filling him up. He had learned to love the feeling of cool water going down his throat on an empty stomach.

But he continued to like food, after so long: its flavour and its texture and the satisfaction derived from that first bite of a full plate, whether or not his appetite was nonexistent or his body rejected it entirely for being used to nothing day after day. The consequences were nothing to him. Especially when he missed the taste of warm meat.

How repugnant the idea was now, however.

Haise adjusted himself in his seat, fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt, to briefly distract from the inherent disgust the came with forcing himself to eat.

Ayato took the plate back, "Is that the first thing you've had?"

"Yes."

"Shit, Haise."

"I know," He stared at a mark near the center of the table, his teeth pulling at the dried skin on lips hinted with seasoning, "I'll get better."

"Yeah, when?"

He shrugged, then took another drink from the bottle. Maybe if he drowned it out, it wouldn't feel so gross. Maybe he could take a few more bites. Maybe. But it was unlikely.

The sight of him should have been, and probably was, unsettling to his partner. His appearance. His movements. His behavior. What of him was left that wasn't displayed so openly for others to pick away at?

Not so long ago, on some day that he couldn't quite keep track of, a part-time waiter at the cafe had commented on how pale and thin his skin had become and the dark bags lingering after every sleepless night- and it only instilled a sense of… uncomfortable fear, he could best describe it as.

A truth he was well aware of, and yet, somehow seemingly so in denial of at the same time, allowing him to spend each day rotting without his own self present to water and fertilize and repot to avoid any further wilt. Not even the sunlight could feed him.

Of course not. He knew not of plants outside of his art, and no flower had ever had to recover from a broken conscience- and even if he knew, it wouldn't make any difference. Experienced gardeners were well aware that eventually there came a point where they had to weed out the diseased.

And, along with everything else, the person who had mentioned his sickly appearance had also become a source of anxiety- one of those same faces that he felt he knew, but could never, ever place to any name or personality or memory in his mind, only associate with the nausea settling at the bottom of his stomach. Touka was just like them, mysterious and unnerving in her familiar beauty.

"I've been working out a deal with the manager."

Haise looked up from his lap, "Yomo? Why?"

"You're staying in the break room, you just lay there all day," A large discrepancy from what Touka had offered, of course, but he didn't have the resolve to do anything about it, "All this… It's a problem."

"My sleep schedule?" No. The question was stupid.

Ayato sighed, "You know it's more than that, Haise."

A silent nod, lips pursed, eyes darting from the younger's concerned face to the table to his lap to his hands and everywhere all over again.

His episodes. The nightmares. The talking and the whispering. The yelling. The alarms. Oh, the alarms that kept going off though were never responded to. The alarms from that morning, barely managing to wake him only for him to remain unmoving as though he had never been woken in the first place.

He knew there was more than just the sounds he held an inability to perfectly understand that became a nuisance to the people that he often pretended were never around. Much, much more. But they held the same fate of ignorance as most everything else in recent times.

He took another drink of his barley tea.

"Since there's- since you, y'know, can't really be around people…" Ayato had trouble stringing the correct words together, settling for the most basic vocabulary to get the idea across without somehow saying the wrong thing, "There's an open apartment at the top of the building. The basic one-DK. I had a look at it earlier."

"Okay."

"But-" He cleared his throat, "But you have to work for them."

Then returned the sinking knot in his throat, the heaviness leaking to his heart and stomach, weighing him down from the inside and out. Even the tea seemed a bit much. The recurring question of 'why?' sat in his mouth, waiting to be said, waiting to be answered.

But he already knew the answer to the why, and it was only fair.

"Haise," An abashed hand reached out on the table in front of him, and, hesitantly, he took it. Ayato tipped his chin upward just briefly. His fingers burned. Eyes focused on the other's moving lips, "It won't be here, not during the day."

He inhaled slowly, then, almost as soon as he grabbed it, pulled his own hand away. He couldn't stand the sensation.

"And you?"

"I have a job, pay rent- they don't care."

"Of course," The phrase was colored with a tint of spite as it stumbled out of his mouth, like it was out of his control, though, of course, there was no reason it should have upset him so.

It was possible that, subconsciously, Haise had decided that if he couldn't bring himself to reaffirm his position in the modern crime scene, he wanted Ayato to remain the same beside him, despite how so-very-selfish that made him. So the bruises and the blood and the barely-considerate pay of Ayato's 'job' hurt just that much more than if he bore them, too.

But the thought of working among the strangers that he already had to see most days somehow seemed almost worse- strangers, strangers that had no clue of neither who he was nor what he did, strangers that he had no clue of, either. And he almost wished that he would just quietly follow behind Ayato, just as he'd always done.

But that was unrealistic, the whole premise of a simple job at a local business being worse than an oft-inescapable career of crime, the suggestion that he could even possibly try to join Ayato with the state he was in, so he shouldn't have let it grow in the back of his mind.

"If not here, then where?"

"The basement."

"So it is here."

Ayato shook his head, "Mm, not exactly. They've got the same manager, yeah, but it's separate from the cafe."

"But it's still here."

"...Yeah," The boy sighed.

Relief or disappointment. Content or fear. One or the other, the answer not so obvious, he was… satisfied with the close proximity of the proposed job, and while another part of him wanted to leave, just leave, find somewhere new to be, he knew that all the factors weighed against him in his chances.

What kind of dying plant- no, what kind of weed, could just uproot itself and find another garden to maybe, only maybe, regrow?

It wasn't as easy as just imagining it.

The job was what he could handle, then, in comparison to the time and effort and stability it would require for anything else, and he wasn't in a position to protest- as dissatisfied as it made him- when he fed off their stock and invaded their workspace just so he could have a place to wallow in his own misery.

As he said, it was only fair. He whispered a dry curse under his breath and stood.

"I'll go talk to him," The swishing of the half-empty bottle was more of a shifting of gravity in his hand, able to feel it more than he could hear it, while his voice was too loud inside his own head.

The plastic had grown warm from his grip.

But the room was still cold.

And the days had been growing warmer like the bottle in his hand, and the blankets just a little too hot in the following nights for reasons more than just sweaty dreams that woke him up over and over. The weather was thawing. The air growing thick. Humid. Some days the sunny rain held the same heat as the dry ones, taunting him with their betrayal as he watched the water drip down the windows of the cafe.

The office on the floor above was conditioned just enough to prevent sweaty workers leaving damp prints on the paperwork, but it didn't manage to fix the heat that seemed to have sunk into the layers of his skin permanently. When one has moved to a place where the lows used to be their averages, it makes dealing with the temperature changes just that much worse.

Even so, he had missed it, whether genuinely or for the mere nostalgia of it, and he didn't realize this until he returned.

The desire to sleep was almost strengthened enough by said heat to get up and leave, but, instead, he waited, watching the manager from across the desk, wishing that he _would_ just get up and leave. But a lot of the things he wished for just wouldn't happen. Papers tapped against the wood as they were organized. A pen rolled a short distance. Conversation between the two of them died off, and Haise's reflecting soon followed suit, as though he couldn't dare to break the silence even with his own unheard thoughts.

A small stack was placed in front of him, "This is the most I can do without your proper identification information."

The contract, liability, and other similar forms, he could see, but not quite the same as that of a normal job. While keeping the papers in view, he glanced at Yomo, eyes narrowed- suspicious, almost, that this would be an excuse to work his way around work regulations and abuse his vulnerability, to the extent of which he didn't even understand.

However, even if that was the case, there was little to no incentive nor reward, and, in exchange, nothing Haise could do in defense, so it was useless to worry. He wasn't sure how long had passed since he began reading the contents of the forms, but when he signed it, most of the staff had already left. No longer did anybody even pass through the office to finish up their work.

Haise reorganized the papers and handed them back to the manager with one small nod.

"Alright, I'm there most days around five. Come down when you're ready."

≁

That Friday afternoon- he only knew it was a Friday because he'd bothered to read the date on his phone- he was ready, at least to the point that if he delayed any longer he wouldn't be as ready again for quite a long while. Just existing as he was, almost energized, just barely moreso determined, was draining.

So, he had to be ready.

"Ehh, can't it rain just a bit more?" Touka sighed heavily as she watch the clouds disperse to reveal a bright blue. Fabric was only slightly damp from an ending downfall, though footsteps were still quite wet in comparison as the waitress designated herself to be his guide.

That day, her hair was straight rather than the usual wave or curl, and the dye had faded just enough for the hue to match the sky she looked up to. A hint of fading bruises were spread across her pale skin, and he wondered if they were the leftovers of what her brother had done weeks ago. He didn't allow himself to consider it, and he looked away to signal his own mind to do the same.

She was right. There wasn't much left other than the slight sprinkle, and, feeling the air on his skin as he stepped outside the cafe's doors, Haise would have agreed with the downcast sentiment. Not like it made much of a difference, though. There was no bargaining with the summer, the one that would result with either the parched wilting or the lush blooming of the environment.

Lucky for the both of them, the rainy season was approaching. Then they wouldn't have to wait weeks between each visit.

"It's down here," She gestured to the small space beside the building that opened up to reveal a wide set of stairs, as well as a few street carts. Some active. Some abandoned. He nodded, "He'll show you around, but I can't do much so I won't stay long."

"Ah, you're not legal?"

A small downturn of her lips, "Well, no. Alcohol just isn't my thing."

"I see," He hummed. So she was twenty, at least- older than Ayato, he was already aware, but he never knew by how much: two, three, four years… She couldn't have been much older than himself. He felt like he once knew her at a younger age, but shook his head at the thought.

The concrete faded into a darker grey when it reached the entrance below.

One step down, two steps down, another and then another- her presence reluctantly following behind didn't go unnoticed, and Haise wondered if it was even too overwhelming for her to enter the building. She didn't turn back once she began, though from what she had said, he didn't expect it to last very long.

A dangling sign spanning from above the doorway to the other side of the lowering stairway caught his attention. 'ANTK Underground: CLOSED'- The first four letters were roman, representing the basic phonology of Anteiku, he assumed. Haise didn't know too much about English to know otherwise. It was clean. Freshly painted.

Touka lingered by the door as he stepped inside, and a woman who looked to be a hostess began speaking with her. She nodded in response, sometimes smiled- they were silent to him, of course, and they left his mind as he turned back to toward the center of the room.

As eyes looked over the interior, Haise thought of it as a mirror of the cafe above- a convenient design choice, most likely, except darker, more refined, meant for a completely separate audience than the customers who drop in for a coffee and a croissant. A figure reclined against a sofa in the corner. Another sat at a bar along the right wall. Like Touka, they were preoccupied by an unheard conversation with a bartender.

It wasn't just the manager who managed to sport a beard, he noted.

"Yomo, yes?"

The man in question cocked his head to the side, his arms crossed and a curious look in his eyes, though it seemed to disappear as he looked Haise up and down. A cold glare bore into him. Motionless. Not even a twitch in his lips. Refusal to speak wasn't a problem, however, as he recognized him from their past meetings.

"I'm here to accept the serving offer in exchange for staying in the apartment," The pretense of polite welcoming in his voice was accompanied by a bow, "Please take care of me."

"Hey, this the one?" The faint voice passed over his head from the right.

Still without a response, Haise raised himself from the bow and waited with a vague unease until Yomo stood from the barstool. He glanced over to the bartender just long enough to make a surface-layer analysis and then took a step back to accommodate the space of the approaching presence. His head held high, while his fingers tapped against his thighs.

"Itori-"

In the corner of his view, he could see the loner rise and make her way to the three of them, while Yomo remained still, and though he wasn't necessarily threatening, the atmosphere surrounding him was still tense in a way that Haise couldn't help but associate with the authoritative figures of a still-so-very-recent past. Again, his eyes narrowed.

Once the woman stood beside him, her shoes surely clacking against the glossy wood floor, Yomo spoke, "Do you have plans tonight?"

She shook her head, and her loud voice came out in pieces due to its high-pitched nature, "No, no. I was thinking of going out, but I can save that for later, Ren-chan."

What was his given name? Ren? Rentaro? Guren? Was it Chinese? The small curiosities only occupied him for a moment and were fractured in his focus as the manager raised his hand in a gesture toward Haise. A strong tone in his left ear blocked out the words that he could see being spoken, but one wouldn't be aware of this nor the recurring tightness in his chest just by looking at his seemingly-unbothered attitude.

She nodded to something that he had potentially asked, the bartender stuck his hand out to speak, Yomo's shoulders seemed to relax as they continued while Haise's own tensed up. And then the woman reached out, and at the touch of her hands clasping around his arm he suddenly recoiled with a heavy breath that brought the world back to him.

His back hit the edge of the bar, sending a shock up his spine, and his feet struggled to remain untangled with stool legs. Very clearly now, he was able to hear the gasps and comments of the few people in the room. A panic overcame his movements.

"Oi-" The bartender reached over the counter to support him from behind, and Haise stepped away again from the unwanted sensation. To balance himself, his body leaned over, hands on his knees, trying to properly organize the sudden mix of colliding energies that left his mind in even more of a confusion than it was minutes prior. The feeling of somebody stepping up to him lasted only a few seconds before it returned to its original spot, "Is he okay?"

Somebody had surely answered the question, but he didn't listen- his own mind only yelled, over and over, no, no, no, he was not okay. He was not. He really was not. He wasn't ready.

The places they had touched burned his skin. He felt like he could puke.

Through his beating of his heart and the panting of his strained lungs trailing off in the following minutes, Haise was finally able to raise his head, and his eyes looked to a pair dark grey, the eyebrows above them strung together in concern.

"Are you sure you can do this?"

His throat was dry, like he wanted to cough, but his lungs wouldn't let him. All that came out were tiny dissatisfied hems. He choked on his voice, "I can."

Whether or not he was to believed was highly debatable.

Without pushing the question further, Yomo looked past him, to Touka, who didn't seem to speak but still conveyed something to the manager that in response he hummed, and the door behind them opened and closed in quick succession. A sigh. Another nod. 'Let's try this again.' Itori approached, but this time her hands remained clasped in front of her.

"We're going to the back room," Her smile was hesitant and she stepped in front of him, like she wanted to grab him- a repeat of before-- she didn't learn her lesson--- Haise really hoped she wouldn't. And... she didn't. But her footsteps beckoned him to follow.

Yet again, the paranoia of various gazes glued to him was suffocating, and this time the it was justified.

While the main room wasn't much different than the cafe, only a bit bigger, behind the walls of the bar was a fresh image separate from what he expected, with a hallway labelled for private rooms and another for the staff, and past the initial kitchen that couldn't have served a purpose more than alcohol was something of a preparation room. The lights were brighter. The air unscented.

"I don't suppose you work here," He wasn't looking for a response, only speaking to himself as the two walked through the building. Even so, he thought he heard her say something. She glanced back, her lips moving to the side as a small quirk, but his expression didn't change.

The door was already ajar when they entered, and Haise took a seat in a chair that she directed a request to as she sorted through a rack along the wall, pushing hanger upon hanger to the side. The one's she ignored were tagged along the wire, so she must have been looking for one untouched. A uniform, most likely.

Soon enough, she returned three sets in hand, "This one is probably too big..." Her voice trailed off as she placed one on another chair, "These two could work. I'll have you try them in a moment, but for now..."

He dipped his head to accept, keeping his eyes on the woman. Bright peach hair trailed down her back, and her clothes, while relaxed, were still reminiscent of the type of refined, sensual fashion he'd seen along billboards and shop windows. Almost like a new take on that woman-

Haise's train of thought abruptly ended, probably for the better. He tried to quell the returning rush in his veins. His throat was still dry.

"My, my," In front of him, she held one arm across her chest and raised the other to her cheek, an elongated finger tapping against soft fat that moved with her giggle, "You're quite an interesting one, aren't you?"

Features strained for a split second, "Oh, am I, now?"

His resting frown turned into one of slight amusement, wanting to ask what it was that she meant, exactly- before he could, however, she continued, "What should I call you?"

"...Sasaki," The name was caught on his tongue, as though he didn't want to say it, "Has the manager spoken of me before?"

"To me? No."

A small breath of relief that he didn't know he was looking to release escaped him from hearing the response, and his amusement turned into less of a smirk and more of a genuine smile. He didn't much like the idea of more people knowing of him than intended; not strangers with business uninvolved with his own, nor customers passing by without context to his actions-

"I've been hearing things from the others, yeah, but Ren-chan is always mindful of your privacy."

And the breathing that should have then been relieved was caught in his throat, his mouth, his lungs, tasting thick with stress. She hadn't noticed the sudden change, or if she had, she said nothing, instead brushing it off to kneel down to a short table beside them. A set of clear china played with her hands, afraid they were going to fall and shatter for how fragile they looked. The pot was empty, though still damp despite the time that he had assumed had passed since it had been finished off.

"Do you want me to make some more?" Her voice carried a bit better in the smaller room, making it easier to hear.

Haise shook his head, not only knowing he wouldn't be able to finish it but also not wanting to drag the situation on unnecessarily.

"That's a shame. We usually brew black tea, but I've always liked it European style," Legs crossed as she sat across from him. Crossing something out on a notepad beside the china. She fixed up the dishes to clean later as she began, "You know, with milk and sugar and all that. It makes it more rich. Plain tea's always been boring to me."

He nodded, but wasn't interested in continuing with a talk of tea and tastes when their goal was supposedly training and he had something else he'd rather ask. He wouldn't waste the time- not like he didn't often waste time, but he preferred to waste it through other methods. And the thought of his question going unanswered was yet another thing found to be anxiety-inducing.

It was indeed a bit problematic to already make himself out to be inconsiderate, but before he could stop himself and think it over he had already spoken.

"What is so interesting about me?"

Itori tilted her head to the ceiling in thought, "Well, Sasakichi-"

'Chi' was mouthed to himself in silence. Just a repetition of sounds to calm himself. He tried to listen more intently as she spoke.

"To begin, your personality is a bit of a mess," She looked back down and gave an entertained beam, "Already, I've seen you flip-flop. You flip from quiet and polite, and flop to haughty- arrogant. And I bet you have more than that in store- like that incident earlier."

Her eyes focused on him with intensity. Trying to read his thoughts.

"I can see you kind of pull it all together, like it isn't you, just a mask or a wall. Say, Sasakichi, do you think you're too good for others, or are you just afraid?" The end of each syllable seemed to drip with a sourness that wanted to forcefully, violently, uncover what it could.

But there was no malice, no hatred, no truly ill intentions behind it. Her words were teasing him, playfully, light-hearted though dark. But it was too much. Too much talk, too much rambling- it wasn't the same needless rambling as before- he had asked for it, he admitted to himself, but what he had received was unsettling.

"It's okay if you don't know. In any case, I think that's definitely interesting."

"G-"

"Then, there's your appearance," She picked back up before he could fit anything in, and her smile returned, the tiniest of laughs in her voice that told him she knew very well her strength. He swallowed the vulgarities he wasn't able to say, like he was backing down, fearful of a worst first impression, of being rude.

Flipping to quiet and polite. Haise scoffed. What an exaggeration.

"Your roots are growing in, so I can't tell if this look is on purpose or not," Hands twirled with her own hair, pink strands falling from her grasp to her chest and back again, "But it's good. Unqiue. Quite fitting, don't you think?"

He ignored her and took off his glasses to clean them, settling for his shirt as he didn't. Itori seemed to enjoy the change.

"Oh, these are popular now, right? I see them everywhere," She rushed to grab the wired spectacles from his grasp and brought them up to her own face, though didn't put them on, and a look of surprise passed over her to see the little circles of a separate prescription near the bottoms of each lens, "Wow, so you really are fashion savvy. Are these for reading?"

He held down the inherent negative reaction suddenly bursting inside his chest, instead giving a proper response to what she said, "They're bifocals. I don't always wear them."

She nodded with amazement, "Speaking of, does that eye work?"

Haise gave a sound like an 'eh' or a 'huh' and raised his hand to graze over his left cheek. The raised skin was more significant along his eyelid, and his touch became caught on the remnants of a tear. Though he couldn't feel it, he knew the eye itself was just the same.

He recalled Touka asking something similar. An accident. Yes, an accident. How lucky it was that people would accept such a simple answer when it truly explained nothing at all.

"No… It's almost gone."

"That scar will put people off- the discoloration and all," Her hand swirled around in front of her own eye, and she laughed, "I think you'd do well at the club, so you should join us there instead."

"No," The harsh statement contrasted her joking tone, and his body quickly responded to the thought of leaving all over again by tightening the muscles in his chest almost-painfully, as he had enough to control to remain seated, "Don't-"

Haise cleared his throat.

"Don't say that."

"Oh, my," Giddy delight rose in Itori's voice, "See- you've flip-flopped again! I thought you'd ask me what kind of club it was, but no- so entertaining, Sasakichi. So it's true that you act like a rotten child, isn't it?"

Something was mumbled under his breath, and he diverted his gaze to random objects in the room almost to make it clear that he was unhappy with the direction the conversation was heading. Interesting, arrogant, rotten, mixed in with the implication of childishness- for as much as he was trying to hold his image together, Itori didn't seem take much care herself, but it didn't help that he wasn't responding well, either.

Haise only enforced her suggestions. Not quite proven, he told himself, she was only fishing for what she wanted, but still enforcing it. And he disliked that. Disliked to be called out on that.

"Your attitude might turn out to be quite popular with certain customers."

"I'll try these on," Glasses were taken back by now-unclenched hands, and he stood, movement stiff and unnatural, but just as meaningful as his need to escape- if only for a moment, a brief respite. He grabbed all three uniforms, the one just a bit too big only contributing to the wasted time he was desperate for.

She raised her hands- a simple, odd filler, not really meaning anything that he could understand aside from excitement, "Alright, alright! I'll let you model for me, then."

His fingers tightened around the wire hangers, the metal quickly warming to his touch, and he felt his cheeks heat up. But he wouldn't respond to it as if he were still a teenager, still a fresh student in university who didn't quite know how to interact with others, because that wasn't who he was anymore. He didn't need to get flustered by a joke.

Judging by Itori's personality thus far, she probably would have hoped for that.

"Actually-"

"Right," She nodded with an expression as though in realization, or more in tune to a serious reality, and pointed to the door, "There's a washroom just out there, to the left. The employees will be coming in soon to get ready for the night, so it'll be best if you do it there."

A hum. A click of the doorknob. The hallway wasn't conditioned like the prep room, and the lights were dimmed- they weren't before, he thought he remembered. So it must have been to set the mood of the bar for the soon-to-arrive customers. He pulled out his phone before entering the room she had directed him to. Eight P.M. No new messages. O.K. battery.

Something inside the tired twenty-three-year-old hoped that his younger companion would have sent him something, to check up or say reassuring words or tell him of recent plans. Something. And for once it felt lonely to find nothing in his notifications. He wouldn't have responded, anyway- he just wanted to be acknowledged by someone that mattered, not nameless strangers or acquaintances that were more involved in their interactions that he ever would be.

Only few people here interested him. The rest, the part-time waitresses and the regular visitors, the people above him and the ones below, he didn't care for- in fact, he almost specifically disliked, for their images unearthed him and dug away at some unidentifiable entity at the roots of his current self.

It didn't matter how nice they were, or how well they treated him- by virtue of their existence in his mind, they were a threat.

And one after another, they kept appearing to do just that- to unearth him, with Itori only being the most recent, and, so far, the most effective, even as he felt that it wasn't her purpose or reason. She wanted fun, she wanted to get to know him more, to play with him in a way- nothing more, nothing less. But that wouldn't stop him from feeling as though there _was_ more.

How unreasonable his thoughts always were, running around endlessly with the suspicion and fear toward something hidden and likely not truly in existence. But he couldn't stop himself.

He flicked the light switch, and the few rows of steel-toned stalls were illuminated by yellow bulbs above, one with a shine not quite as bright as the others, but it still had enough strength to avoid being replaced for a few more months. Would he be gone by then, or would he still linger in the lives of those he wanted to be unwanted by, he wondered.

Seeing himself in the mirror, he could almost say that he looked as heavy as his chest felt- heavy in the sense that he couldn't stand to hold himself up any longer, let along support the weight of everything else on top of that. But it had only been one day, and he couldn't let himself give up when he had just begun. Sooner or later, none of it would be in his hands anymore. So it was better to do it on his own.

He wasn't ready, but he had to be.

A hand ran through his hair, falling down the the grey and white of his damaged eye, trailing over the scars reaching down to his mid-cheek. He didn't think they were off-putting, as Itori had said, but he also supposed that was the result of seeing his face every day for years and therefore being forced to cope with it. Sometimes, he couldn't even remember what his own reflection looked like before. What blemishes were under the scar tissue, what colors lined the edges of his iris before they were drained, he didn't know.

Was his skin always so pale? Did his muscles always feel so thick? Were there always those red marks lining his skin in random, seemingly insignificant locations?

It helped that the uniform covered most of his body, so he didn't have to think about it too long. Considerably different from his usual attire, the vest and button down and dress pants were, and almost refreshing, as well, looking like he finally had a real job.

Because he did.

≁

He was nervous. Just as nervous as he had been in the past weeks as he mulled over every little idea, if not moreso, but it was a new kind of nervous that he was certain he'd felt before, though he couldn't place when or where or why. It just dug into him. His stomach. His legs. He supported himself on the wall leading down the staff hall as he watched everyone else care for their customers.

A group of friends huddled together through the doorway, greeted by that same hostess who guided them to a table in the back corner. Ten minutes passed. Then came a group of girls to match. They looked young- but, as they were in a bar, they must have been university students, at least. A goukon. It must have been fun.

Haise waited, patted down his blazer, gripping the hem, and when they raised a hand for their order he stepped out from behind the counter.

"Welcome to Anteiku Underground," He bowed, the notepad of orders in hand, "What would you like to start the night with?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song as Haise's alarm is purusha by the cabs. I used it because I was listening to it at the time and thought the lyrics were fitting.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since an anon brought it up on the last chapter, you guys should comment some things that you like: your favorite Tokyo Ghoul character, your favorite ship (if it's not Hide and Kaneki), favorite food, favorite animal, etc. etc. I think it would be fun, especially since I never really interact with people properly, anyway.
> 
> ‼ - Possible Content Warning right at the start for the whole italic portion. I know it's probably unnecessary considering the source content this fic is based off of, but I just want to be careful. It'll be a recurring thing in other chapters.
> 
> Well, here's chapter five. You might finally be getting what you've been waiting for. Please enjoy!

_"Don't move, don't move," The high-pitched voice laughed into his ear from behind, "Not an inch, Kaneki."_

_He struggled to contain the contents of what felt like far more than just his stomach, his throat straining, eyes burning. He couldn't feel his right leg, and for a brief second he wondered if it was still there before his focus was forced to return to the command._

_"He'll only make it worse if you do."_

_Her hands grasped his shoulders- delicately, but not kind, rather like she was retaining her refined image even in the midst of sadism, appearing to be a way to assert her dominance as same as the man, overbearing and threatening, ahead of him. Producing a shudder, that stocky figure brought a grin to its lips, while the eyes expressed a disgusting mixture of sickly hatred and joy. The clacking and clinking of metal tools came from a tray at his feet. He tried to still his trembling body._

_"Please-" The boy's voice was caught in his throat, too hoarse to manage much more._

_"Oh, here we go," Her grip tightened, fingers digging into his skin through soiled fabric, "You know this is one of my favorites, but I don't have the time to do it myself."_

_The distinctive sound of a blade sliding across stone resonated through the room, and he cringed in anticipation, his view black, eyes shut so tight it was almost painful. And then he felt the first slice at his shin. Short- not too deep, but sharp, and it stung. As the knife ran up his leg slowly with repetitive movements, he could feel it cutting through older scars and fresher wounds, reopening them._

_Not much came from the front of his leg, so after just four or five minutes the man traveled to his calf, and there the slicing ran thick along what little fat he had. Blood trickled down his leg into a dish below. God, it hurt. It hurt. It hurt. He bit his lip, feeling his teeth puncturing his flesh, but it wasn't enough of a distraction._

_The next one slid deep into his lower thigh, burning his flesh as though it were fire, and his mind almost hoped it would reach an artery- almost._

_"Well, I feel so sad to leave now, but I have an appointment to go to," She pulled away, but his shoulders didn't relax, instead returning even more tense in fear at her announcement. The clicking of her heels echoed along the cement floor, avoiding the sprinkling of still-wet blood. The room seemed to spin. His body felt like it would give way._

_"Wait-"_

_"Once you finish that up, you can do whatever you want with him," She waved her hand with a smile, taking steps closer and closer toward the door, feeling so slow but still all too quick at the same time, as if to drag out those last moments, amplifying his emotions._

_The man, who had pulled away from his legs to sort through his tools again, nodded with an 'of course.' His stomach flipped, and the rest of his insides churned at the intruding thoughts of what the other might do- Not again, not again. Something else. Just let him go._

_"No, please," He found it in himself to speak in something more than just a whimper, and while deep down he knew it would achieve nothing, the broken, rough words still spilled from his mouth, "Please wait, please, don't-"_

_Her hand grasped the doorknob, not looking back, but he could tell she enjoyed his desperation, "Have fun, Ka-ne-ki."_

_"I'm begging- no, no, don't leave me with him, please-"_

_The hinges creaked. The hallway ahead of her was dark, only the first few steps of the staircase receiving any light. Watching her leave, the door closing behind her, he could hardly contain the sobs and screams that escaped him._

**_"Rize!"_ **

Haise's eyes shot open at the sound of his own voice and the sudden rush of air into his lungs. His panting must have been louder than he thought, and the cry he expected to be audible to at least a few other people in the building, but as he waited, silent, nobody had come to check on him. The blanket was pushed off of his overheated legs. Everything seemed stagnant. No movement, no sound, not even a change in the temperature. Only his racing heart.

Sitting up, letting the liquid that had formed around his eyes roll down to leave his cheeks damp, he looked over vague shapes in the dark. The spare room, Haise reminded himself. He was in the spare room where Ayato had been staying long before Haise ever had the strength to pull himself from the sofa in the cafe's break room, but the boy wasn't on the futon beside him, and that left an emptiness in his troubled heart. After taking a few minutes to compose himself, he found it in him to stand on weakened legs.

A light was left on in the hall, and the white glow turned brown as it was reflected off the floor through the crack at the bottom of the door. Was it Ayato coming home late, or was it just Touka? He didn't suppose she would be up at this time, but, then again, he didn't know what time it was in the first place. The small window was covered by a wall-bound curtain, and if he were to look behind it wouldn't do much to tell him if it were early morning or overcast.

Haise rubbed his face, slightly with the intention to check if he was really there, as he didn't feel that he was, and, already, he was certain he would continue to lose sleep.

≁

It was quiet to Haise as he sat in the corner of the bar, playing with the cuffs on his dress shirt, tapping his foot against the floor, fidgeting.

The deep red of the soft fabric blended well into the dark brown of the tables and flooring, the yellow tone of the room itself only helping to blur the line between separate materials. While the booth was comfortable, the air was thick and sweet with the rise of incense and candles put out to seduce and then welcome wandering guests. They disturbed his senses, closing up his throat.

It would have been nice to step out for just a moment- or longer, to find an excuse to leave and not return, but it was better to stay when the shop was so close to opening and the others relied on him and the customers would be expecting him, as doing otherwise would potentially jeopardize his unstable arrangements. Still, that didn't stop him from wishing for fresh air.

He hated it. Staining of the scent on his skin was commonplace, only overwhelmed by alcohol and a hot shower, and it followed him to the point of being pointed out by Ayato. Some days were better than others, when one strong candle would be switched out for something more tasteful, or at least more subtle. No matter the choice of the day or week, it always seemed to be amplified by the humidity, unfortunately. As it was not yet the summer, when it would fall harder than any other time of the year, however, it was found that said humid air was only a product of the passing rain, which had been coming and going only to paint the sky grey and drip down to the earth every so often.

Already Haise was a bit intolerant, despite his oddly nostalgic attraction to the approaching warm season. In truth, the temperature was never much higher than Matsumoto, and if he looked at the averages of each year he would find that it could even be cooler, but there was something about Tokyo- the shoreline, the elevation, the density- that made it just that much different. Or maybe it was nothing physical at all, and only his perceived notions of the area had brought him to these feelings.

Still, he wasn't quite sure if he preferred the warm-to-cool and back-to-warm changes in the environment that littered white and pink across the ground at greater numbers than honest trash ever would, or the up-kept character of a clean, welcoming, conditioned space. Both could be much for him at times with each passing situation- the lot after lot of unexpected happenings and unknown faces and unheard conversations that left him uncomfortable, but, sometimes, each could be an escape from the other when he just couldn't handle it anymore.

He wouldn't choose one over the other, anyway- there was no need to, when he was already sitting inside, in a building that was emphasized by the dark atmosphere. And as the sky was tinted with the passing time, it no longer flowed so intensely into the bar when the hostess opened the door to switch the sign from 'Closed' to 'Open.'

At the edge of his view, Haise just barely caught sight of hands beckoning him over, and as he stood he heard the voice of the figure. A half-pronounced call of his name. Realizing that it must have been one of several prior attempts, he quickened his pace toward his coworker.

"Ah, I'm sorry," Haise ran his hand through his hair and bowed with an apologetic look.

The young man shook his head as he tied his apron, then held something out, careful of the delicate materials of the object that had been left on the counter a while before. His glasses. He frowned. They wouldn't be necessary if it weren't for the orders he had to keep track of, and he really wished they weren't, as Itori was correct about his appearance drawing attention, and his glasses, while not the typical shape of a megane, broadened his 'audience,' so to speak.

Similar to his the spectacles, he almost considered dyeing the black and white of his head to something of a dark, mundane brown that would at least give him the obvious characteristic of just another normal resident of Japan. And if he wanted to go so far, there was always the additional options of scar cover-up and colored contacts. It would help in his innate desire to become forgettable rather than so unforgettable, and his current appearance very certainly fit into the latter category.

But maybe it wasn't worth it. Maybe it wouldn't help at all, and it would only be obvious that he was trying to hide something, and the possibility of being called out on something so simple though somehow so significant was frightening.

"Sasaki-san," His coworker addressed him a second time, about to enter the kitchen behind the bar, remembering something, "The manager says the apartment will be cleaned out by tonight."

Haise fixed up his hair again, "Why didn't he tell me himself?"

"Well, that's..." He glanced toward the entrance with a sheepish grin, "It's one of his nights out. I don't know much more than what he told me to tell you, though."

Of course he knew more, but he wouldn't say that to Haise's face.

He nodded his head, and his coworker proceeded on his original course, perhaps to help finish with the prep last-minute, or maybe it wasn't urgent enough to have started with the fare earlier. Haise himself didn't have anywhere to be beside the main room. All he could do was stand and wait, and eventually those he waited for began to arrive.

The first customer was a loner. Groups would come later in the night- students fooling around, office employees off for the night- the time just wasn't right yet. Too early. But the loners could be just as outspoken as the groups, and therefore their company was the same, often those now drunk without anybody to restrain them in their actions.

As such, they could also behave quite eccentric. Unconventional. In a way, creepy. Like the ones who call him over to flirt, or ask inappropriate questions, or comment nasty things on his appearance, all ranging from well received words to something that, if he weren't held down by the restraints of his work, he wouldn't normally put up with. But the other staff did nothing. No prevention. The atmosphere gave him the impression that he was more of a host boy than a server, and he wasn't entirely certain that wasn't the case.

"Excuse me," Someone sat at a small table beside the bar waved him over, the stench of beer surrounding each word as Haise approached, "Have- have I seen you before?"

The waiter shook his head, "Outside of this shop, I don't believe so."

"No, no, no-" Their hands moved with a sloppy virility, "I mean- not here. I've seen you. I know I have."

Haise bit at the skin on his lip, his posture tense from the interaction, though he wasn't sure the customer would be able to notice that given their state, and his voice was coy with each response he gave.

"I'm sorry, you must have me mistaken for somebody else."

They kept waving their hands, "No- nobody else looks like somebody like you, nobody, nobody-"

He took a step back from the table, and looked over to the bartender who seemed to be occupied with his own duties, while the rest of the active waiting staff were doing just as he was- taking orders, speaking with guests, so on and so forth- though not caught in an awkward conversation like him.

His eyes called out to them, but without ever speaking they would never be aware.

"I'm sorry-"

"What city was it?" The customer's hair fell over their face, and a delayed reaction pushed it away, "Kobe? Yokohama? What about Matsukawa- er, no- Matsumo-"

"Would you like to order anything else?" Haise's stern interruption forgot a portion of the keigo he was supposed to uphold, and he took another step back. His feet wanted to move, his heart wanted to move, his mind wanted to move- whether toward the customer in offense or away in defense, but he was composed enough to keep his place. His pad and pen were ready.

It was as though they had forgotten what they were saying entirely and moved on to what was, obviously, more important to the customer- drinking, "Oh, sh- shochu, yeah."

"Are you sure you can handle more alcohol?"

"Yes- yes," More waving, this time accompanied by a furious nod, "I can handle it all. Don't worry."

He wrote down the barley shochu specified, tore the paper away, and stuck it to the wood beside the bartender with only a curt word to follow as he then hurried down the hall. The wall supported his outstretched hand. His brows furrowed.

It frustrated him, the thought that moving two-hundred kilometers to the most populated city in the country still wasn't enough to hide their existence- in fact, perhaps it only made them easier to find than if they had gone to some remote village in Kagoshima or Okinawa. Even in Matsumoto, the size wasn't enough, so would Tokyo ever be?

The customer must have recognized him from somewhere simple- a market or a festival, something that it wouldn't be strange for Haise to visit, but would still manage to stand out with his appearance. Not too many people, but enough. He'd blend into the waves of moving bodies. If anybody remembered him, they wouldn't be able to connect him specifically to a local street gang. Not when it's so publicized, with people claiming to be a part of it, or know the people in it, back and forth, on the news and on talk shows or even just among groups of friends.

Could somebody such as a drunk stranger in a basement in Tokyo know anything? Reveal anything? Considering that they were hardly able to name the correct city, Haise wanted to say that the answer was a solid 'no.'

Any claim would mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. Wouldn't it?

But, even so, in the off chance that it did mean something, maybe it would be worth the change- if not to avoid unwanted comments, but rather to lessen the chances of somebody, somehow, somewhere, managing to pick up incriminating information and turn them it. It would ease his worries. Prevent an accident. Or an overreaction. 

Haise straightened himself up with resolve and returned to the main room.

The drink was ready, waiting on the counter as none of the other servers had come by to take it, so he dropped it off at the small table, grabbed their empty dishes, and moved on to another customer before they could say anything else. An older business man complained to himself about going home to his wife. Two friends sat in silence across from each other. From the movement of hands and lips, he could assume the bar was filled with quite a bit of chatter, covered up by the light music being played, but it wasn't something he could absorb, and, in a way, that was relieving.

Not another incident like the conversation with the customer happened that night.

The clocked ticked by, edging closer to the end of his shift. It wouldn't last until closing- somebody else would take his place, being much more trustworthy in their actions, and he'd return to the apartment long before five in the morning. Even by the time he returned to the back room, neither Yomo nor Itori had visited like he would usually expect, and the bartender switched out just an hour before. They must have had a considerable number of employees if changing shifts more than one position was manageable, but it also could have been due to the specific circumstances of the business. Circumstances that he played a role in.

The metal of the locker shook just as he opened it, and he reached for his phone, the screen of which blinked a pale blue and obscured other details such as the date and battery percentage, though those weren't so important.

'meet us upstairs'

He snapped his phone shut and stuck it atop the lockers before changing back into his own clothes, then gave a discreet 'goodbye' to his coworkers to avoid the attention of customers.

The sky was dark, but clear with only a few clouds in sight, and the lights of the surrounding buildings lit up the streets. The cafe already closed, but he had a key, and tried to cause little disruption in the dark room as he made his way toward the stairway. Past the break room, past the staff kitchen, up more steps, and past the office, up more steps- he opened the door to a bright hall of two apartments and yet another set of stairs. He approached one of the doors, about to push it open, but stopped at the sudden, intense vibration that reached his hands and feet.

He pressed his right ear to the wood, which was certainly thin enough for even him to hear through, though he'd have trouble either way. The voices on the other side were muffled. He turned the knob just enough to crack open the door no more than a few centimeters, and then stood there, silent, trying to listen.

"No-- ...there's no-" It was Touka who spoke, fading in and out, "Why can he just… -no better than you--"

"Why...is this suddenly a problem? He's not okay-"

Ayato, it seemed.

"-I don't care."

"...would you want to? 's not-"

He didn't want to make intrude in the middle and make the atmosphere tense and awkward than it already was, so he remained by the door. His blank stare was directed to the floor.

"Why? Explain to me why he can't-" Her volume rose.

As did Ayato's, "He- he's afraid-- ...it's not his fault-- not your damn business!"

"If he's psychotic...it is my damn business-- why the fuck is he here?" Hostility rang, reaching him through the small crack that allowed him to hear so clearly.

A loud thud followed and the dialogue between them came to an end. Something crashed to the floor- other than the body that certainly belonged to Touka, of course- signalling to Haise that he should step away. His back leaned against the hallway across from the door. Without his hand to hold it in place, it opened up quite a bit more, but still less than halfway.

Another fight. They continued, even after the first, and that's when he realized they must have been the source of the bruising he saw the day that she took him to the bar, as well as every day prior and since. It was easier to do so without Haise's company. And it seemed Touka didn't want his company in the first place, making Ayato's stance questionable to him.

Unable to tell when things had cooled down, he waited until his phone buzzed in his pocket.

'where you at?'

'Sorry, I'm just about there. Got held up by one of the waitresses.'

Several seconds passed, closing in on minutes, and then he stepped back toward the door and entered the apartment. Shoes rested beside two other pairs, the rest left on a shelf built into the wall. The slippers were a welcomed change from the dress shoes he had to wear in the bar.

As he walked through the living room, an unseen hand brushed his shoulder, so very light, just enough to catch his attention while not surprising him. He turned to the figure that had entered from the kitchen. Ayato gave a weak attempt at a smile through what looked to be a sour mood, and Haise returned it.

Another door slammed, and the two looked to the other side of the room. Touka walked swift beside them. Her bottom lip was red, and blood seeped from a split in the center of it, though slow, no drip. Her expression was much worse than her brother's.

"We're moving you upstairs, let's go," She adjusted something in the entrance closet, and the boys followed, "We're going out tomorrow, too."

"Touka-"

She interrupted and swung open the door that Haise hadn't fully closed behind him, "When you're living here with us, you don't have much of a choice. Don't complain, okay?"

It was a command, not a request, as told by her severe tone. His pace faltered, chest tightened. He wanted to open his mouth and ask where- ask why, but he couldn't bring himself to. It wasn't the same as working a job in return for shelter, but, even so, hearing her words he felt like he couldn't afford to suggest otherwise.

But… It would be fine. Enough time had passed. Whether or not he had really seen what he thought he saw that day at the hotel was debatable at best, and he knew that very well- the others were just dealing with his troublesome thoughts and action.

No big deal, he told himself. It was just a day in the city. Nothing to worry about. Nothing.

"...Okay," He nodded, slowly.

The concern of Ayato's gaze bore into him, but neither spoke afterward, only walking behind Touka as she brought them up the last set of stairs to the single apartment at the very top of the building. Just past the genkan was a kitchen, the wall containing the toilet and bath, and opening up to the main room on the other side. It wasn't very big. Perfect for one person, especially with little to no belongings of his own.

"You sure you don't want me to stay with you?" Ayato's voice was both pressing and soft on the matter, understanding the difficulties the filled him in the decision.

Haise approached the sliding door that opened up to the rest of the rooftop. The glass was cold. He left it locked.

"No, I'm not."

But he hadn't come to a decision about it, unsure if it was enough to know that his partner would be in the room below him, or if he needed the close proximity for comfort, or if he could be dependent from Ayato entirely. The last one was the most unlikely. But maybe he could try. No matter how lonely he knew he would be.

It was like his coping relationships and instinctive reactions were at odds with each other, and his mind couldn't decide on one. Maintain his support- Pretend it's alright- Reject everything entirely- One thing and then another, it left him exhausted just to think about. The positive changes were slower than they should have been, and it wasn't like he was doing much to help himself, either.

If anything, it was only others that were helping: the job, the mutual understanding of boundaries, the kindness shown, even the plans Touka made to take him out for a day- because as much as it was unwanted, it was still recovery- all came from people other than himself. And he wasn't exactly comfortable with the fact that they were people he'd rather not have been involved. The matters with their situation as two supposed-defectors of Aogiri were one thing, that was fine, but his trauma was something else entirely, and definitely should have been kept to himself since the beginning.

There wasn't much he could do to change that, however.

"He didn't hear you."

Haise turned his head back to the younger boy, and then to Touka, who he guessed had said something to him. She repeated herself.

"You've got groceries in the fridge, the bed is made 'n' fresh sheets are in the closet, and there's a T.V. for you, too."

"Did the manager do all this?"

"Yeah, well..." Whatever light was in her face left as she shook her head and looked away, "I helped out."

"That's very kind of you, Kirishima-san," A smile. Almost too sweet. Sickening.

She scowled, "Don't act so polite. I know it's fake."

He hummed, still smiling, then returned to the view outside the door. Anteiku wasn't nearly the tallest building in the area, but there were a small number that managed to be a few meters shorter. Less floors. Not so significant. Even as everything else seemed to tower over him, it still felt better than the view from previous rooms. He'd have space to relax outside without having to worry about those passing through Ikebukuro.

He rather enjoyed the idea of a balcony.

Ayato stepped to the right of him for a moment, "We're going back downstairs."

"Ah," He was reluctant to let him leave, "See you, then."

Something else tried to make it out of the blue-haired boy, but didn't succeed. Eyes looked down. The presence left his side.

Haise sighed.

≁

The day was bright, blue, breezy enough to cool his skin under the glaring sunlight; the sleeves of his button-down were rolled up to his elbows, the bottom of his pants cuffed. It was nice for the weather, but he couldn't help but feel crowded by the people surrounding them, inspiring an uncomfortable sweat. Occasionally he would hold on to Ayato's arm for guidance, but it wasn't always necessary, and most of the time he stayed between him and his sister. She had curled her hair more than usual, most likely in preparation for public appearances, while Ayato wasn't any different from his usual self. He looked uncomfortable in black clothes engulfed by the mid-day heat, but it wasn't bad at all, so it must have been the result of something Haise wasn't aware of.

The wounds had been appearing less and less, but there were still a few to hide. The same went for Touka. But he wasn't so shy about it.

Whatever Haise had to hide was entirely internal.

The few trees they passed through more commercial districts of the city were blooming, and petals would fall to their heads and shoulders, sometimes without notice. He wondered how many had celebrated Hanami.

He didn't think he would, but if somebody like Touka willed it, then it would be so.

Touka was more insistent in their activities, while Ayato acted with conscience toward Haise, then his behavior turned dark in relation to Touka, and Haise didn't mind either way what his interactions between the two were as they alternated over and over. The problems only rose when the girl attempted to push him through his undisclosed state, and that, among other scenarios, was when he was forced to settle on a breakfast of a small sandwich and canned coffee. It wasn't the worst, but he couldn't help but feel like he was too full so early in the morning. It would have been easier on him if he ate later in the evening, closer to something that he could call supper.

It felt better to burn it off when they walked around and in and out of neighboring districts. The usual essentials and non-essentials were bought as they crossed through stores that caught their attention, though Haise couldn't afford to spend on himself what they did for themselves. Not much beckoned him to buy, so it wasn't a bother, anyway, and he was content with the bare minimum of trailing behind them in relative silence, only ever speaking when they first spoke to him.

But even as he seemed to enjoy himself, he would still glance over the heads of those around him, searching for a sign of that blond hair or strong body, wondering if he was being followed. His anxiety said yes. His rationality said no. Thinking about it too long was not an option, because if he did, their day would come to a stop, but he still looked. Subconsciously. With suppressed fear that he would never vocalize.

Perhaps knowing this was why Ayato remained close to him.

"We're going to my friend's place," Touka raised her hand so Haise could see she was speaking, and the group began passing streets that he thought he knew, but couldn't quite remember- not well, at least. Whether she meant their home or something different wasn't clear- neither stood out to him in thought, so he didn't ask.

The roads and alleys they walked along ranged from two-car-width to only a few people, and while it could be uncomfortable at times it was better than getting caught in the flow of the city. Some of the shaped rising above them were houses and apartments, while others were restaurants, or hotels, or something else he didn't pay too much attention to. The cause of the quiet alternated between his own ears and the truthful silence of the neighborhoods. Sometimes, he could hear the chirping of the birds several meters above. How pleasant.

Soon enough, though, they returned to a larger street that allowed for a larger crowd, but the area didn't have significant activity in the first place, so it never reached the extent of others. There wasn't enough business to keep its popularity up. Only a few visitors that took a liking to their shops. It met at a four way intersection- the kind with a street stretching along one direction, and two other roads branching off on one side, in this case the left. Lonely civilians walked by, bikes passing quietly. Few older-looking fellows entered an Asahi Brewery beside them.

Touka stopped in front of a beige-stone building, and he looked up to blue scaffolding and a sign that read 'Sasaya Build, Higashi 36-5' above the doorway. A flag hanging from a balcony mentioned used records. They waited for Ayato to purchase something from one of the vending machines before proceeding, and the interior didn't do much to show what was past the empty entrance room and over the staircase, while the combination of the pale walls and the tiled floor made it feel colder than it really was. His partner opened the can and offered a drink, but Haise shook his head.

On the second floor was the shop they were looking for, and immediately he was faced with rows and rows of cases lining the walls, posters taped to the ceiling and boxes filling the room, and the surprising number of customers led him to believe that the store was an admired spot.

Haise grasped the voice that welcomed them, and while something felt off as it reached his ears, it was otherwise ignored, "Welcome to Darumaya, enjoy your stay!"

He watched Touka peruse the endless collection, pulling out records to read the track listings or admire the album art. She didn't seem to be looking for anything in particular- just mindlessly browsing in hopes that she'd stumbled upon something good. Should he do the same? He didn't know. He didn't look out of place in a music shop, but he almost felt like it, because while he didn't dislike music in the slightest, it still wasn't ever something he took special interest in. What bands he liked, he liked, and it was left at that.

"Didn't know you listened to stuff like this," Ayato said.

"Mm," She took out an album she seemed to like and tucked it under he arm, "He got me into it."

"You got a record player?"

"Yep."

"C.D. player?"

She nodded. The short exchange was already over, and it was interesting to witness what could have been considered a near-bonding of two estranged siblings that tended to dance around truthful interactions. Even as it was more essential toleration than warming up to one another, every little instance of their relationship caught his attention and made him consider if their grudges weren't strong enough to keep them apart or if they would ultimately end with another broken fallout.

Haise moved on to the store that seemed endless, almost too much, but if that's what it took to keep a reputable stock then he let it be, as if he had anything else to compare it to- maybe this size of a collection was normal, and he had just never known. So he didn't complain when his hip bumped into the corner of a table, or his sleeve was caught on a crate. Organization must have been troublesome, and, as someone such as himself, he would have let it all pile together in an unidentifiable mass. Surely would have gotten him fired. He pursed his lips.

As time passed, the three neared the register as Touka wrapped up her search- though, if this was a friend's shop, he didn't expect them to leave just yet- and when he looked he found that Ayato held something, as well. He didn't recognize the artist. No clue of the genre. If he was lucky, it would be something the both of them liked.

Really, Haise missed listening to music, even if it wasn't so often and not very intently. A nice combination of piano or guitar with books to his younger self. And over time he had learned to appreciate the vibrations of the bass and vocals. Most songs were never too strong or too deep, hardly the frequencies to make him sick, enhancing the few experiences he had. It gave him the chance to find something else to invest himself in, when he had the energy to do so.

He chuckled to himself, remembering the way he'd been nagged to listen to foreign bands and underground genres, sometimes even brought along to concerts. But that was long ago, when his senses were undamaged and his friendships still fine.

Stepping in line, Haise straying to the side as he had nothing to buy, almost immediately the feeling of eyes being drawn to him filled him with an anxiety- it wasn't the same as being in a room of people he felt were watching, or passing by with paranoia, but instead just one person who couldn't find it in them to pull themselves away, and the longer he let it sit the more he felt uncomfortable in his own skin. What was it? His hair? The scar? He wanted to cover himself up so the sensation would stop, but he didn't even have a jacket to raise the hood of, and he frowned.

"You've brought some friends, Touka?" Again, that voice spoke, striking him as familiar with some unexplained curiosity.

"Yeah, my brother and his friend."

"Eh?" The clerk sounded shocked, "I thought you didn't know where your brother was?"

"I didn't, but he's here now," She muttered, and the scanner beeped over the bar code on the record packaging.

He could hear his smile, but something hidden beneath it was sad, "Congratulations on the reunion, then! What's this one's name?"

"Sasaki," Ayato responded this time.

A shoulder nudged his own, and he swallowed his denial. The gaze of his raised head began at the younger male, and to the record to he still held in his hands, and then Touka's fading-blue hair that looked away, and then to the store clerk that questioned him.

Time froze- or rather, it was Haise himself that did.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It wasn't supposed to take me so long to write this. Since I posted the last chapter I've hardly worked on it at all, but as soon as I read that panel with Scarecrow and the sign and tbh just the ch138 as a whole, I knew I had to get back to this fic fr. Hide is inspiration... Bringing me back to what I love... 
> 
> Also kind of really excited for the live-action movie + season three.
> 
> Anyway, here goes chapter six!

Haise was thankful for the nice weather as he leaned against the cool brick just outside the front door, waiting for Touka to return from her chat with… a friend. Her brother sat on the stairs inside, just a few steps away, perhaps keeping watch on him- or simply waiting, just the same. No matter the reason, they didn't interact.

People walked by. But nobody paid mind to him, either, nor Ayato, nor the building.

Eyes shut in a lengthened, stressed, tired blink.

His thoughts were incoherent. A flood of conflicting information and sensations and emotions and images and more emotions seemed to spill over onto the ground around him in large, salty droplets. He didn't know what to make of it.

Was it real?

Touka's laugh, recalled and replayed from several minutes prior, pierced through a conversation that faded in and out in waves, the tide flowing in every few moments, carrying a ringing tune, then returning back to sea with the rest of the sound leaving with it.

Haise had observed them from his spot beside the clerk's counter, trying to focus, but he didn't know that he actually could. In fact, he seemed unable to even string together each word in the proper order, as if it had become tangled together in the water that filled his head, like seaweed.

And he couldn't move.

The heaviness in his limbs weighed him down far too much to step through the non-existent sand of the makeshift beach, and if he tried, the sand would only catch in his shoes and sprinkle coarse across his skin, unsettling, the thought of the texture making him cringe.

"How long have you been in Tokyo?"

His throat was clogged. Mouth sewn shut. Filled with that sand.

But he composed himself.

"A few months. It's my first time," He had tipped his chin upward and looked to the side of the room, avoiding the blond's stare in his response.

"Ah," Something in him shifted, but soon another smile appeared, shining, "Well, how do you like it so far?"

"It's okay."

"He's stubborn about seein' new places," Ayato had continued for him, attempting to draw the conversation away from the elder, as though he had sensed the discomfort.

Ayato, as disgusting and cruel and immature as he made himself out to be, was always aware of such details concerning his partner.

"Hide-"

Again, his hearing cut off.

Hide.

Hideyoshi.

Nagachika Hideyoshi.

Nagachika. Hide. Nagachika Hideyoshi. Hide. Hideyoshi. Nagachika Hideyoshi. Hide.

The name only piled onto what had caught in his throat.

As much as he wanted to avoid it, as much as he _needed_ to avoid it, unfortunately, it turned out that even Ayato's sister, who he had previously thought he'd never known before their first visit to that cafe, was able to inevitably force him back into his past- or, at least, his memories of the past, and she rushed into his brain like a thick, blue dye.

And it made sense. He knew that blue. But why? Who was she? What did she do? He knew. He understood. But why? Why?

He knew her- he knew her? She was there. She was part of it. Right?

No, she wasn't? She was? She wasn't? Yes? No?

"Must have been a pretty bad accident, then, huh?"

Sweat rolled down his forehead, and his glasses had been removed to prevent them from slipping.

Haise could feel his mouth moving as he mulled over each individual concept, but wasn't aware if he actually made a sound or not.

"It's actually pretty weird, though."

So- Touka. Touka was a waitress at a cafe. The cafe sold coffee. But this wasn't the same cafe that sold coffee that he knew. But it was the same Touka. He knew Touka. She knew Hide.

Hide. No, not Hide. A stranger. A stranger.

Teeth dug into sensitive skin, tearing at long-healed scars. Fingers played with the flayed string from the rips in his jeans. He was lost.

"It's a bit crowded in here," He had mentioned.

Touka nodded, caught up in some topic, and Ayato touched his shoulder as though to say something that he didn't want to express verbally. Haise shook his head, but the younger's hand remained in place.

The store clerk shifted attention to him in a split second, leaving Touka's conversation behind, "Oh, yeah, there's not a lot of room in here, I know."

"So I'll be out front. Don't take too long, Touka."

"You're leaving already?" The voice had been warm, teasing, playful- well known to him, but he didn't want to admit it.

"Yes."

He took a step back. Hide's expression faltered. Ayato finally moved his hand.

"Wait-" The blond looked as though he wanted to reach out, "Have you-"

"No," Haise was more forceful the second time, and inched toward the door just a bit more, "We've gone over this before."

"We have?"

He stopped. Breath stilled. Eyebrows furrowed in confusion, realizing in the moment what he'd said- or, referenced to- in that it was something entirely different. But he had reacted without consideration. Those previous actions and interactions had become all tangled together, covered in damp salt. All of it. Without notice.

Why couldn't he think straight? Why couldn't he remember- what happened years ago, what happened yesterday, the day before, today?

He didn't even know if Hide would ask the same question- he only assumed.

"Well-" A pause, giving a mild shrug in some sort of unidentified apology, "No, my bad."

Haise turned away to the exit, flashing a wave back to Ayato before he left, but it wasn't long before he heard those footsteps behind him, loud as they transitioned from carpet to linoleum. And before he knew it, he felt the fresh air on his skin that completed the feeling of the ocean.

Even as he was out of sight, however, the sensation of familiar eyes glued to him did not disappear, and only fortified with each figure that he knew ignored him though still couldn't completely convince his paranoia otherwise.

He stared. They stared.

Picking him apart.

Analyzing each and every feature.

All the pieces, trying to put it back together again.

Throwing pieces away.

Putting two and two together that didn't belong together.

Casting it all out to sea.

Haise shook his head, knowing he shouldn't let ideas without basis dig so deep down into the consciousness in question. In the end, the ocean inside his head had drowned it all out, anyway.

≁

While his thoughts spanned over several eternities, his night was over before he knew it, forgetting the faces he saw and the questions he answered and the one-sided small talk directed toward him. Whatever he did remember wasn't worth thinking about. None of it was.

He sat at the bottom of the steps leading down to the Underground.

"Yo," One of the waiting staff appeared in front of him, dressed down from the restaurant requirements, "We finished our shift 'n' we're going out with some friends. Wanna come?"

Haise shook his head.

"Eh, what a shame," He scratched his neck, awkward.

A girl opened the door behind him, "Are we ready?"

"Yep, yep," The man grinned, " Sasaki's not coming, though."

"Aw," Her voice was too quiet, "I wanted to get to know him more."

The two walked up the stairs, now ignoring Haise's presence, so dissatisfied they must have been frustrated- but that was just his worries. As if he even cared, really. It didn't matter if they disliked him, or thought he was amazing, or just didn't acknowledge him at all. It didn't matter.

It wasn't worth it.

His answer would be the same if they invited again, and they'd soon realize that, but, for now, they would have their idealizations of the kind of relationship they could manage with him. He wouldn't say anything. He wouldn't interfere.

Eventually, they would lose interest. And he would only be known as the weird stranger with the eccentric look.

As it always had been, everywhere he and Ayato went.

But why couldn't it have been the same for _everyone_? Why couldn't they all leave him alone? Why did anyone have to stray from that norm, and call out to him? Speak to him? Question him?

For as long as he tried, there would never be an explanation that he would accept.

The cicada sniffled more than cried, not so loud as it wasn't yet their season. Mixed in with crickets, and beetles, and loud conversations, and tapping shoes, and passing vehicles. A stream of so many sounds that, in the end, meant nothing at all.

But they silenced when he entered the cafe and made his way, sluggishly, up the several floors, down the hallway to his apartment. His hands struggled to fit the key in the lock, but when they finally succeeded, he continued to move.

Feet dragging along the wood, then scraping on the concrete of the balcony past the sliding glass door parallel to the entrance.

The buzzing of the city returned. There was a breeze. The leaves of several potted plants followed.

He shivered as his hands grasped cool metal.

Haise blinked a few times, the images in his head mixing with the glowing lights of the city scattered and washed over like a faded watercolor. Salt sprinkled in the still-wet pigments to draw out the liquid. Shining through the dark.

He looked down. The drop to the bottom of the building wasn't so far in comparison to his surroundings, but it was enough. Something rose up through his body. Leaning over.

He heaved.

The taste was sour on his tongue, and when the fluid without real substance had finally finished leaving his stomach he turned to crouch against the bars of the railing, head resting on arms crossed over his knees. It burned his esophagus, clearly damaged by the gut reaction, but he didn't feel any more empty than before.

How long he sat there, he didn't know, and it seemed that the only reason he eventually managed to drag himself to his futon and fall asleep was because his body couldn't bear to be awake any longer.

The next morning- or, rather, the next time he opened his eyes, Haise found a note reminiscent of the days he started to miss, left behind by an absent partner, though not forgotten, even so. Except now it was Haise who was absent, as judged by the day and hour displayed above several missed messages on his phone.

Sleep called to him, but he couldn't comply- at most, he could lay, quiet, lonely, but not sleep, for he was drained of that need entirely after nineteen hours. Nineteen. The most he had managed for quite a while. Was it a good thing? He couldn't decide.

He peeled the paper from the floor darkened by a still-pitch black sky, and turned the screen of his phone over to shine over pen-written font and read, 'food from touka.'

Then Haise scanned over the contents of the notifications layered over the patterned background.

A message from Yomo. Two from Koma. He expected a few from the hostess, but she was too reserved to attempt contact, most likely. Several from Touka. Surprisingly, just a few from Ayato.

The majority concerned work- he missed his shift, he missed the whole night, they needed him to take care of something, they needed to speak to him, as though just one day of disappearance was enough to bring about a barrage of questions from people who didn't know any better.

He skipped over several, letting the highlight land over Ayato's last message, and pressed Enter.

'hey, you ok?'

'is he bad? should i do something about it?'

'or you not sure?'

Then nothing after that. Sent at eleven a day ago. During work.

'No, I'm fine.' He typed out.

Belated as it was, he thought the effort was still worth it, for the younger's reassurance.

'He's from back then.'

Haise plugged his phone into the outlet on the other side of the room, causing the room to blacken again without the digital light to guide, and he stood, shoulder leaning against the wall, for several minutes. Would he go downstairs? Or stay in his apartment? His stomach grumbled. Stinging. He held his arm to his abdomen.

For once, he felt he had both the physical and emotional appetite to eat, but the potential for a repeat of the night before wasn't too appealing on its own. But he would still eat. It was nice to feel that he could. Hands ran against the textured walls in search of the light switch, which he hadn't yet grown used to using. Most days he wouldn't bother. But it wasn't enough of a mystery that it was impossible to locate, and the white lights flickered briefly before filling the room.

Not very much could have possibly been inside the small fridge, but with the notice of Touka's favor he figured it wouldn't hurt to try- and it didn't. Where he expected a vacant coldness was instead a covered pot. Beside it, a bowl of rice.

'Then why is he here?' Haise remembered her words. Even as Touka asked that, she seemed more inclined to enforce his stay than to cut it so short.

He couldn't help but wonder if she knew who he was as well.

He clicked his tongue. What a fool.

It was pleasant surprise for somebody who always relied on a constant numbness. Though her words conveyed a distaste toward his company, her actions told a different story, and that seemed far more important to his stomach that complained.

Haise tipped the lid over the edge of the pot. Cream stew. He wouldn't mind eating it cold.

A ringtone traveled uncertain as he scooped the soup into a bowl. What he did hear, he ignored. Or didn't quite process. Either way, he was more concerned with the matter at hand. Once the thirty seconds had passed, it stopped.

The taste of the broth was resilient even chilled and presumably a day old, and it slipped down his throat with ease, forgetting the sharp burn that had itched it before.

He stood, silent, almost relaxed. The glow of the kitchen leaked out onto the balcony. Empty. Of course.

Then the ringing resumed, somehow louder in his ears, and the mixture of his startled reaction and his step away from the counter managed to catch the bowl. A wet sensation covered his leg. The plastic clattered.

"Fuck-"

The phone kept ringing. Hastily, Haise dropped the bowl back onto the counter top, the liquid running down his skin, cabbage and chicken scattered across the floor, and, for a split second, he wondered if it was worth taking care of at all.

He sat there, in his small mess, for an indefinite amount of time.

When it finally came to it, cleaning wasn't difficult, but a fluster of emotions hindered his movements, and he debated whether or not he wanted to pour another bowl- if his appetite was soiled, it would only be a shame.

So to bide time for his decision, he slowly pulled himself to his feet and returned to the other half of the room, changing into a clean pair of sweatpants. The light on the front of his phone blinked. He reached down to it. The time flashed first- five in the morning, much later- or, rather, early- than he thought. Then the missed calls.

He didn't recognize the number, but the sight of each little pixelated digit on the screen left him unnerved by its nature. A message box popped up just as he was about to check his voicemail. He expected Ayato.

'Don't Ignore Me.'

It wasn't.

Suddenly, Haise's heart burst in his chest.

'Why Did You Come Back.'

Those words displayed across the screen in another box.

'You Knew I Would Find You.'

His hand clenched the phone tight enough to hurt, the plastic digging into his skin, painful despite its softened corners. He knew who it was. There was no other way. But he didn't know what to do about it- the shock was unbearable in reality, and even if he tried, he couldn't let go of the phone.

Dizziness overcame him. Tinnitus filled his head. He couldn't breathe. A blink. No new messages.

Another blink. They were gone entirely.

Did they even exist in the first place?

A rush of air entered his lungs with a gasp, and finally the phone fell to dark wood, but this time, as it closed, it didn't leave the room black. But it felt black. As though he wouldn't be able to navigate it even with each and every surface brightened by the ceiling lights.

His eyes burned the same as his chest, but nothing came of it.

Then, as though in response, heat hovered over his shoulder like a beacon in his perceived darkness.

"No!"

The hand pulled away by a short span of space, still in wait, watching him back up to the wall with an aching force.

"Haise-" Stern, though concerned, Ayato was, "Haise, calm down-"

Fingers grasped his shoulders, and this time he didn't pull away, only using it as a means to stabilize himself as he closed his eyes with a deep breath. But his heart wouldn't slow down. Involuntarily, his legs kicked at the body, and then-

Skin met skin against his cheek, hard, and the dry layers of tissue cracked on impact.

"Come on."

He swallowed, iron coating his tongue, neither speaking for seconds to minutes afterward. Blood dripped from a tear. It stained the collar of his grey shirt.

Birds cawed from the telephone lines.

Eventually, Ayato let go to fold his legs beneath him with knees just barely touching the other's feet, almost as a way to ground him, and waited for Haise to regain composure. There was a brooding expression on his face. Haise shied away from it.

"Sorry," He whispered.

Ayato shook his head. Didn't reply. No continuance, just frozen, as though nothing had happened.

"I feel like I'm going insane."

"It's fine."

Haise frowned, "No, it's not-"

"-I know," The blue-haired boy cut him off, though it wasn't forceful, "I know it's different. But shit happens."

"Yeah, shit happens all the time, so much, I can't take it," His voice wavered.

Ayato huffed.

"It's as though my body is falling apart all over again, and my brain's just going with it."

When he wiped his chin, blood smearing across his skin with a twinge of pain, Ayato stood back up and grabbed a hand towel from the counter. The baby blue was soft, but as Ayato dabbed at his lip and then left the rest for Haise to care for, it was tainted by a dark red.

"You left the fridge open."

He nodded.

"You eat?" The younger moved toward it and glanced inside, visually rummaging through the few things stocked, disappointed knowing well that the majority of its contents at any given time would be tossed.

"Sort of."

"Her food's good, right?" He scowled, "Don't know where she learned it, but it's good. Pisses me off."

"Maybe she likes to cook."

He closed the fridge forcefully, causing it to rattle, "Hell no, she doesn't."

A shrug. Haise wouldn't know. It just mattered that she cooked at all, he supposed. It was good, he would admit, but that didn't hold much weight when he did tend to eat whatever arbitrary thing he could manage at those few given times. 'Like home cooked meals,' Someone would probably say. But Ayato wouldn't know. Haise himself would hardly know.

The boy mumbled something of how 'she hated cooking,' or 'she wouldn't ever make that for him,' or whatever else it was he complained about. As far as he was aware, it'd been many, many years since the two had seen each other, so those claims were worthless in reality.

He looked over to his phone. Nothing.

Occasionally, his palm would brush against his mouth, expecting more blood, but the red didn't return. There was, however, a throbbing in his head. Piercing pain. To his left, the sky began to light up, pale like the hand towel in his lap. Those colors seemed to be a recurring theme in the last few weeks. Blue and yellow both.

"I've been in contact with the others," Ayato said.

Haise raised his head.

"Eto 'n' them," He continued, resting on the counter, "They've got business with the people I'm with, so we're working something out."

"So you take care of important things now?"

"Yeah, I guess," He didn't sound certain, but, as Haise wasn't really so interested in the specifics, the answer was sufficient, "It's nothin' too fancy, anyway. Doesn't matter to those assholes if someone like me gets involved. They just don't get it."

Haise's eyes outlined the sections of the younger's body that he'd previously seen broken, though seemed healed now- not a guarantee, of course, that they wouldn't return. He almost bit his lip at the unsettling thought, only stopped by the sting of the sensitive skin.

"They shouldn't do those things to you."

"Oi," Ayato raised his eyebrows, "This's nothin' compared to what we do, y'know. Just had to take the beatings to get in."

Those same lips hurt like a bruise as he pursed them. He was right- no different, not at all, he'd realized long ago, and always had to remind himself. It was a way of life. A constant to them. Unchanging.

He tried to smile, "Suppose I'm just jealous, then."

Ayato snickered.

"Do they know when we'll be able to meet up?"

"No," He pushed himself off the counter and headed toward the entrance, disappearing behind the wall, soon returning with a backpack that must have been left by the door, "They don't think we should."

Hands shuffled through the bag.

"That's… reasonable."

"Like hell it is," A scoff, "We should'a regrouped the same day it happened."

With a tilt of his head, Haise leaned forward to sit properly beside the younger, glancing to his mouth, then back to his hands, then back to his mouth again in case he spoke, "It'd only be more suspicious if we did, though. People keep talking. They probably already know what we look like. It's better that we go our own ways for now."

"Nah," He pulled out two tall cans, which then rested beside the futon as Ayato returned the rest of the bag's contents to its original place, "That's some divide 'n' conquer BS"

The way Ayato saw it was probably more accurate, but it wasn't worth it to argue, so he gave a small hum in reply.

"Asahi?"

"Yep," Two thumbs up framed Ayato's face, which had lit up at the word, "Grabbed 'em while I was on a job. Super Dry, just like you like."

"Can't wait for the day they finally ID you and realize your card is fake," Reluctantly, he reached for the closest can, "Do you really think it's the best idea to let me drink?"

Ayato popped a tab, "I'll already be twenty by the time that happens. Besides, it seemed like you'd need it."

"Well," He moved the warm aluminum from one hand to the other before placing it next to his phone, still plugged into the wall, silent, "It's too early."

"'Kay, suit yourself," Ayato shrugged.

"Did you go by the music shop to get it?"

He shook his head, "That's not the only place that sells beer."

A sigh accompanied his agreement, but still, Haise thought he would ask, just in case. Out of curiosity, he supposed. It had been on his mind. Obviously.

"But yeah, I did."

Haise watched him drink, the roughened gulps of beer audible in the otherwise lonely room, "And your job happened to be in the area?"

"Yeah, well," Ayato's thumb wiped the corner of his mouth, "It was between jobs, then. I wanted to check it out."

No question asked as to why, he waited for Ayato to continue, quietly mulling it over on his own. Weight shifted uncomfortably. What he felt in his chest differed from the anxious tingling in his fingers, and he couldn't place it's meaning, even more confounded than any previous turmoil.

Sad? Happy? A relapse? Or recovery? There was no coherent method to discerning what was what. But, at the same time, that wasn't something that Haise wasn't used to.

Whatever it was, it left his system a mess.

"Worried about me?" Haise managed to joke.

"Why shouldn't I be?" At first, Ayato smiled, but his tone dropped soon after, the mood fleeting, unfortunately, "For a while I thought you were gonna lose it again. I get sick of this, too, and just 'cause you got me all soft or whatever doesn't mean I won't kick your ass."

If he didn't feel it inappropriate, he would have laughed.

"You need to tell me when this shit happens."

Haise sighed, "I know."

"So why didn'ya stay and talk to him?"

No answer. He didn't know if he had one to give. He shifted again, this time so his hands gripped his legs, tapping them in some disorderly rhythm, nails trying to draw a sound from the fabric to no avail. That similar sensation of sand in his throat returned.

Ayato looked as though he had understood there would be no answer, taking another drink of the beer as he checked his phone. A silent way to signal he would move on.

But Haise did, eventually, reply, "It didn't feel right."

The younger's eyes glanced up from the artificial light. Without verbal response, they urged him to go on.

"You know when you do something, and it's not that bad, but you still feel guilty over it?" He didn't articulate his thoughts too well, but the base of it was manageable, "As though, in a way, it was the worst thing you could have done?"

A slow nod.

"Similarly, if you do something bad, and somebody you trust asks about it, you feel like you can't talk about it, because that will somehow make the thing you did even worse?"

Slower. The gesture was enough on its own.

"That's what it feels like," Haise looked down to the floor between them, "It felt like I would have been putting him into some sort of danger that he didn't belong in. And… I felt like..."

With almost a cringe in his expression, he exhaled deeply, nails digging into his palms and fitting into the scars that dipped into the skin.

"I wanted to leave him behind."

Saying those words made his throat burn. As though it wasn't true.

"You shouldn't try to run from this shit."

Haise sighed, "I'm not running. I'm just… uncertain," Uncertain of what, specifically, he couldn't say, but it was odd. A limbo where he couldn't decide what to say or do- what was right? What was wrong? But he knew he wasn't alone in that experience, "And what about you?"

"No way," Another drink, a shake of the head, "I know what my past is. I left it because I hate it, 'n' I'm better for it. I don't think it's the same for you, Haise."

"So what do you think I should do?" Though Ayato couldn't see his eyes, he could hear the sincerity in his voice.

Nothing.


	7. Those Days Are In The Past

Hey, guys! I know it's been a while. A few months. Would have been longer if I posted a proper chapter, even.

I just want to say that I no longer feel it in me to write fanfiction anymore. It may not be obvious as I only have 1 work public on my AO3, and I've lost or deleted every other bit of writing I've done- but I've been writing fanfic and roleplaying for a good few years now. I've loved it, and it has certainly helped me to cope, helped me to develop language skills, and helped me to interact with new people and new communities. But I think I finally have to let it go. I do still want to write in ways, I want to create, but my heart isn't in fanfiction, and I don't think it has been for a long time.

I would have loved to finish this story, but I think I should have taken it as a sign the fact that I've been working on this for two or so years, and the end is nowhere in sight. It takes me months to write again after I stop. I fall into a block. Depression makes it worse. Mania is hardly ever directed toward writing. It's been a long time since I've seen improvement in both these habits as well as my skill, and I haven't been very satisfied.

Therefore, I'd much rather direct my creativity toward other things- music, painting, language, politics, and someday hopefully my own webcomic or something of the sort. Stuff that I don't feel ashamed to show others. Things that don't have a bad image. And that I can have the conviction to properly and continually work on and create with.

I apologize to anyone who wanted more, but I thank you for reading.

I'll catch you all on the flip side.


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